His Own Man
by Crunchysunrises
Summary: In the station between Life and Death Harry makes a different choice. Now he's eleven again, no one is turning out the same way, the Sorting Hat won't Sort him, the Malfoys are looking at him strangely, and - it's time for another visit.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own any rights to the Harry Potter franchise nor do I own the Harry Potter copyright. This is done purely for fun, not profit.

* * *

Harry's eyes slid to the wailing baby under the seat. Memories of being that child, crying in a house filled with people who hated and feared him, choked him. Regardless of whatever Voldemort or Tom Riddle were guilty of, this unhappy baby did not deserve to suffer for his future crimes. He knelt and picked the child up. It was awkward to hold baby Tom, not least because Harry knew nothing about holding a baby. There was something about supporting the head, right?

Gently he joggled the child around until it was propped against his chest and cradled against him like a rugby ball. He cradled the child with both arms, just to be extra supportive. Dumbledore watched him with a small frown. Oddly, the sight reminded Harry of fourth year. Dumbledore had frown when Harry had told him about Voldemort using Harry's blood to get his body back. Right after he smiled.

"You planned this from the very beginning, didn't you?"

Dumbledore had the grace to look away. "Not from the very beginning."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Maybe not from the night my parents died but you had a decade after that to plan this. That's why we had such crap Defense professors. You didn't want me to fight. You wanted me to stand there and die."

"It isn't permanent. Not for you."

Half-formed thoughts and suspicions burst into the forefront of his mind and melded together into a truly ugly theory.

"If Sirius had custody of me, then none of that would have worked. I wouldn't have been anyone's victim, ever."

"You wouldn't have had the blood protections either."

Harry snorted. "Because they kept me so safe. If Sirius hadn't got to prison without a trial – and as Chief Mugwump it was your duty to ensure that he had one! – then he would have kept me safe and in the Wizarding World. But then I wouldn't have had to rely on you. Neither would Remus."

"Harry this is all for the best! Follow my plan and everything will work out the way that it should."

"For the greater good, right?"

"Exactly."

The baby had finally stopped crying. Harry watched the boy's eyes slowly flutter shut. Dumbledore was going to leave him under a seat and crying. Dumbledore seriously believed in Grindewald's crap. He had deliberately left Sirius to rot in prison rather than getting him a trial. And Dumbledore had intended to kill Harry all along.

"Otherwise I wouldn't have known what to do."

Dumbledore smiled genially. "People so very rarely know what is best for them."

Albus Dumbledore was not the man he had appeared to be. He was nothing like the man Harry had believed in. Dumbledore had only cared for himself and his own machinations.

He was still exactly like Grindelwald.

Harry gently placed the sleeping child on a seat.

"I'm my own man, Professor. I'll decide what's best for me and follow my own plans."

Harry closed his eyes. He thought about where he wanted to go back to. With Dumbledore's shouts ringing in his ears, Harry fell through time and space.

In the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts one of the whirling silver instruments emitted a high pitched shrill. It glowed bright green for a moment then stopped. Completely.

"That's no good" said Headmaster Dippet. "Someone must go and tell Albus that young Harry Potter is in danger."

There was brief row over who was young enough or in enough need of exercise or unobtrusive enough to tell Albus. When someone was finally dispatched to interrupt the Headmaster's staff meeting, all the current headmaster said was "How extraordinary. We shall have to look in on young Mr. Potter."

* * *

"What do you mean you aren't going to let me into my vault?"

"No key, no entrance."

"I'm Harry Potter!" Harry shoved his hair off of his forehead. At the goblin's evil look, Harry lowered his voice. "Isn't there some sort of magical test you can do to prove that I am who I say I am?"

"Not until you're of age."

There was one small flaw in his current plans: Dumbledore had the key to his vault.

Harry stormed out of the bank. No money, no wand, no invisibility cloak, no horcrux hunting!

"Damn it!"

Rage welled up in him. Harry stepped into the nearest alleyway. He concentrated on breathing slowly, in and out, in and out. Blasting stuff would more comforting but that was stupid, juvenile and would draw attention to himself. Temper mostly controlled Harry slouched down Diagon Alley, his hands in his oversized pockets. He fingered the holes in the sides of his pockets as he tried to plan.

Okay, so he couldn't buy anything before he met Hagrid. He'd just have to lose Hagrid and do a bit of shopping on his own. Or owl order. But how was he going to make today worthwhile? He stole money from his aunt's purse to get here today. There was going to be Hell to pay for that. He should get something out of his first day in the past even if –

"Oof!"

There was a jolt of pain in Harry's bum and the palms of his hands as Harry impacted the alley's cobblestones. He glared up. A blonde witch was outlined against the sun.

Great. And he couldn't even blame it entirely on her.

Harry scrambled to his feet even as he started apologizing. "I'm sorry. I'm having a really bad day and I wasn't looking where I was going and –"

On his feet and able to get a clear look at the woman's face, Harry's words stuck in his throat.

Narcissa Malfoy!

Harry tried not to groan.

Of course. He was probably fated to meet a Malfoy his first time in the alley.

Cool eyes studied his ragged hand-me-downs and lingered on his forehead. Harry automatically smoothed his hair over his scar.

"Harry Potter I presume?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Where are your guardians?" Narcissa's eyes moved to study the area around him.

Harry flinched, imagining the current, spoiled Dudley and his parents anywhere near Diagon Alley.

"Not here" he mumbled.

"Who are you here with?"

Harry edged back a step. "I'm fine."

Narcissa Malfoy studied him for another few moments then said, "Very well. Would you care to join me for lunch? I hate to dine alone."

Harry eyed her suspiciously. She would help Voldemort to help her husband and son. She was devoted to her family. And she was a bit of a snob. But she wasn't evil.

It probably wasn't a good idea to wander off with her anyway.

But, now that he was no longer furious, he was _hungry_. He'd stolen just enough for a night owl ticket on the bus. There was not enough money left to buy anything to eat in muggle London. He had not eaten anything since lunch yesterday. He had been counting on access to his vault.

"I know this charming restaurant" she said persuasively. "The food is delicious and if we sit on the first floor we'll be able to see most of the alley."

Well. It was not like she was inviting him back to wherever it was that the Malfoys lived.

Harry shrugged. "Thank you."

Her mouth curved into a small, restrained smile. "Of course."

The restaurant was much nicer than anywhere Harry had ever been before in either lifetime. The navy blue carpets were thick, the walls were painted a tasteful shade of off white, and the furniture was both delicate and expensive looking. All of the furniture's arms and legs were carved into the shapes of writhing and twisting snakes.

Harry idly wondered if he could still speak with them now that he had gotten rid of that piece of Voldemort's soul.

The four sets of silverware were a bit worrying though.

When Narcissa ordered, Harry was careful to order what she ordered. In the quiet afterwards Narcissa turned those thoughtful eyes on him.

"What brings you to the alley today?"

Harry scowled automatically, once again reminded of his earlier failure.

"I wanted to access my vault. Dumbledore has the key though."

"Is that so?" She eyed his clothes coolly as she asked, "What did you wish to buy?"

"My wand. Clothes. Some books."

"For school? My son Draco has yet to receive his Hogwarts letter."

Harry shook his head. "I haven't gotten mine either. I just thought that – I wanted – It would be easier for me to come today than to come later."

"Without your guardians." Her pale eyes were uncomfortably speculative. "London is a dangerous place for a child, Mr. Potter."

Harry's eyes flicked away. He watched the perfectly coiffure and well dressed witches and wizards around him.

"It would be more dangerous to come with my relatives. They hate magic" he admitted. "Not that it would prevent them from trying to steal my inheritance. Gold is gold, after all, even if its wizard's gold."

He looked back in time to see her eyebrows raised.

Deftly she turned the conversation toward his time in the bank. Harry admitted that the goblins hadn't even offered to tell him how much was in his vault. After that Narcissa Malfoy twisted the conversation to general information about the wizarding world. Some of it was stuff Harry had learned from his seven years in the community but some of it was new and fascinating.

When the food came Harry was careful to watch which pieces of silverware Mrs. Malfoy chose to eat with and then to imitate her movements. Her eyebrows climbed again but she made no comment on his behavior. Her gestures became larger and crisper though so that they were easier for him to observe and imitate.

Lunch was as delicious as she had suggested it would be.

When lunch was nearly over, Harry finally blurted out the question that had been bothering him since he had bumped into Mrs. Malfoy.

"Why are you doing this?"

"You looked hungry."

"But why would you care? No one else does."

No one else would until he met the Weasleys either.

"Because we're family."

Harry gaped.

"What?" he wheezed.

"Your Grandmother Potter was a Black before her marriage as was I. She was my favorite aunt." Her lips curved into that small, reserved smile again. "We are cousins of a sort."

Merlin!

Was she lying? Why would she lie? She had no reason to yet. She still thought Voldemort was dead. And it would be easy enough to research his family line. If she was telling the truth…

_She _was his cousin!

_Draco_ was his cousin!

_Sirius_ was his cousin!

Why was he only finding that out _now_? What else had no one thought to tell him the first time around? Had Dumbledore silenced them? Had they just expected him to somehow know?

Harry suddenly remembered all of those times he had caught Sirius staring at his family tree. And all of those long afternoons where Sirius would shoo Hermione and the Weasleys away and tell him stories about the Blacks. He would even point out the relevant members of the family on that giant family tree. Had Sirius been trying to tell him something? Had Sirius expected him to eventually notice the Potter nee Black on the tree, either intact or partially blasted off like Sirius' own name, and ask about her or research her himself in the Black Family Library?

"I have…cousins. Other cousins." Harry murmured blankly.

He had thought he hated Albus Dumbledore when he first came back to the past. Now Harry knew that sentiment was mere dislike. _Now_ he _hated_ Albus Dumbledore.

That put a whole new spin on his rivalry with Draco Malfoy, one that he was not ready to examine yet.

"Draco Malfoy is my cousin" he said aloud, trying the words out for the first time. Was that why Draco was supposed to make friends with him first year? Was that why Draco was so – no. Now was not the time to think about what was or what could have been the first time around.

Narcissa Malfoy giggled. "You sound so surprised."

"Everyone always said that I had to live with my muggle relatives because they were the only family I had left" Harry said absently as he tried very hard not to think about things that he did not have time to really think about properly. His mouth ran on without him. "Why would they lie?"

"Perhaps they were misinformed."

Harry shook his head. "No. He had to know. He lied." Harry shook his head again. "Never mind. What's done is done. Can I meet Draco?"

Narcissa Malfoy – his cousin's – face lit up. That was exactly the right question to ask Draco's mother.

"Of course." She said warmly. "I would like that very much."

Lunch paid for, she gently ushered him toward the establishment's door.

"Now, let me see if I can help you get an inventory of your vaults."

"Vaults? I've got more than one?"

* * *

"Dumbledore stole my father's invisibility cloak!" Harry said for the fifth time, outraged. Saying it five times did not make it any easier to see it printed in careful penmanship in the ledger for his personal vault. How dare that evil old man pretend that his father had given it to him for safe keeping! How dare he give Harry his own possessions as gifts! Harry stabbed a finger at a long list of withdrawals from his personal vault, the only one that could be accessed by anyone until he came of age. "And what are these? Why did he take this box of letters out?"

"Your guardian did not confide in us when he made the withdrawals" the old goblin said, his voice deep and gritty. Even Harry could see that his outbursts were testing the goblin's patience but this was adding insult to injury.

"And all of this gold he's taken out over the years. What's that for?"

"As I said, Albus Dumbledore kept his own counsel. It was not our place to ask."

"You let him steal my stuff!"

Mrs. Malfoy put a quelling hand on Harry's arm. Harry tried to settle, he really did.

The goblin bared his teeth at Harry, a flash of off yellow. His claws dug into the arms of his chair. Little curls of wood drifted down and out of sight.

"Albus Dumbledore is your guardian" Bogfoot the goblin said forbiddingly. "We did not let him steal anything."

"He is _not_ my guardian!"

"Would you prefer that your muggle relatives –"

Harry glared fiercely at Narcissa Malfoy even as he interrupted her. "They aren't my guardians either! Sirius Black is supposed to be my guardian!"

Both of the adults in the room stilled.

"Are you quite certain?" Mrs. Malfoy asked.

"_Yes_! My parents made him my godfather! I'm supposed to be living with him – not with muggles or Albus Dumbledore or anyone else!"

Her eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?"

Harry narrowed his own eyes at her. "It's probably in my parents' wills. That's where parents write that sort of thing down, right?"

Mrs. Malfoy's eyes slid to the goblin. "Do you have a copy of the Potters' wills on file?"

The old goblin shook his head. "We have only the ledgers and only that one vault can be accessed at this time. Their reading was closed. Albus Dumbledore was their executor and he registered himself as Mr. Potter's legal guardian."

Harry drew in breath to shout 'Well Albus Dumbledore is a liar!' but Mrs. Malfoy tightened her grip on his arm forbiddingly. Instead, Harry took a series of long, deep breathes.

It was easier to be calm after being denied entrance to his vault. At least then, he had understood what was going on. Why was Dumbledore stealing his stuff?

Mrs. Malfoy nodded. She turned her attention back to Harry. "As far as you know Harry, were there any other provisions made for you?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. It doesn't matter. I'm supposed to be with Sirius Black."

Mrs. Malfoy and Bogfoot exchanged long telling looks.

Harry snapped his mouth shut. Of course. They still thought that Sirius had killed his parents.

Realization struck Harry like a lightning bolt.

Sirius was alive! Alive and breathing and _not_ in a tatty veil! And in Azkaban!

Merlin's hairy balls! He was a _raging idiot_!

Harry lean forward, his weight on his elbows and his elbows balanced on his knees. He gasped for breath – no dead Sirius, no dead Dobby, no dead Cedric, no nearly dead Malfoy!

This was more than another shot at the war with Voldemort! He had a chance to undo all the screw ups he had ever made!

"Harry?" Narcissa's voice sounded very far away. "Harry are you well?"

"The most powerful wizard in the wizarding world is systematically stealing my inheritance. He's also pretending to be my guardian. My real guardian is missing. And everyone has been lying to me since my parents died!" Harry tilted his chin enough to glare at her. "I'm not well."

There was a short silence. The adults were probably looking at each other meaningfully again.

Harry's thoughts were scrambling to put themselves into some sort of order.

"He'll give me my key when I get my Hogwarts letter" Harry mumbled to himself. "He has to. Otherwise I won't be able to buy my school things. Okay. So when I have money I'll need to hire a solicitor and maybe a barrister and a detective of some sort. I'll need some sort of inventory and someone will have to track down every knut and every single item he's taken from my vaults. I'll make him give my stuff back to me and me back to Sirius!"

Harry nodded to himself. It was a sketchy game plan at best – aside from anything else, getting Sirius out of Azkaban was going to be a pain – but he wasn't Dumbledore's man anymore. He was Harry sodding Potter, his own man with his own agenda, and Merlin have mercy on the poor bastards who got in his way!

Harry straightened. "Can either of you suggest a good solicitor? For after I have access to my money?"

This time around, he was his own man.

* * *

"The poor dear" Narcissa said, her arm rising and falling steadily as she brushed her hair. Her eyes met his in her dressing mirror. "His world was collapsing all around him."

"So Dumbledore has stolen everything from him" Lucius said lazily from across the room where he was sprawled on her bed. "Why is that any concern of ours?"

"He is my cousin."

"Sirius Black is also your cousin and yet you have expressed no desire to aid him."

"He and Bella were foolish. There is no way that we can help them now. We can, however, help Harry."

"He killed the Dark Lord."

It was a weak argument at best. Lucius already knew the outcome of this discussion – Narcissa would have her way just as she always did when she truly wanted something – but it was important to put up at least a token resistance if only to determine if she was serious in her intent to champion the bloody Boy Who Lived.

"He was little more than a baby. Whatever happened that night was his parents' fault." Her eyes hardened. Even their reflection made a chill crawl up Lucius' spine. "If things had been reversed, I would have done whatever they did to save Draco's life."

"Narcissa!"

"He's dead, Lucius!"

"You never know" he mumbled vaguely, thinking of the diary he kept in the secret room beneath one of the drawing rooms. Still, she was correct. If things had been reversed, he would have done no less than the Potters for his own son. The late Potters had to be admired for their determination, even if their taste in allies was atrocious: a werewolf, a mass murderer, a dead coward, and an old man prone to lying and embezzlement if what the boy said was true. Grudgingly, Lucius admitted, "He might be a useful connection to cultivate."

"In time perhaps" Narcissa agreed easily enough. Lucius wondered if she truly intended to use her cousin the way that he did. Harry Potter was going to be trouble – Potters were always trouble – and he deserved to get something for his efforts.

"How did he know about his guardianship?" Lucius asked.

"He wouldn't say." Narcissa's arm paused for a fraction of a second before resuming its repetitive motion. "Do you think he remembers what happened that night?"

"He wouldn't want Sirius Black as his guardian if he did."

"Perhaps Sirius is preferable to whomever Harry is living with. He was dressed in _rags_ Lucius!"

"Perhaps it is a muggle fashion."

Narcissa frowned at him through her mirror. Her eyes caught his through the reflective piece of glass.

"Regardless of whom the boy's actual guardian is Dumbledore is exploiting him for his own ends. The child's invisibility cloak is only the outermost edge of whatever the old man has planned."

Lucius straightened. "He is the most powerful wizard in the world."

"And you are the most cunning." Narcissa put her comb down. She rose and gracefully made her way toward the bed. "If anyone can outmaneuver Albus Dumbledore, we can."

Lucius smirked. "Flattery will get you everything darling."

He pulled his wife down on top of himself. Her eyes lit with a familiar sort of mischief that sent a different sort of shiver down his spine.

"Is that so?" she murmured. "In that case…"


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own the Harry Potter copyright or franchise. This is done for fun, not profit.

Thanks to Alex for telling me about the formatting issues.

* * *

Being locked in the boot cupboard for two weeks to make up for the money he had stolen mattered more than it should have. Technically Harry was seventeen. And as a seventeen year old, Harry knew that he should not care what his family thought of him or how they treated him. But their hatred and fear hurt just as much the second time around as the first time. Apparently there were side effects to going back in time. His adult's mind was at the mercy of his child's heart. The logic and perspective that he had earned over seven long years were now trapped in the emotional maelstrom of his childhood.

It was… frightening.

On the bright side it certainly gave Harry a lot of time to think and plan. And practice his wandless magic. He didn't have a child's accidental magic to make sandwiches appear anymore.

It took him about two days to get the door open for the first time. And he ended up having to envision his finger as a wand. There had to be an easier way to do wandless magic. In the future he was going to have to be more respectful of the Weasley twins' abilities to get into and out of anywhere. And ask them about their lock picks.

But he had a sort of game plan for saving the world. It was all very well to tell the Ghost of Dumbledore Past that he would be following his own plans from then on. It was something else all together to actually have a plan, particularly for Harry who very rarely bothered to plot things out before doing something brave and stupid. Sitting in the dark with the spiders definitely gave one time to sort out one's future, if nothing else.

Dudley's birthday proved that Harry was still a parselmouth which was somehow worrying and a huge relief at the same time. Sadly, he did not accidentally vanish the glass in the snake enclosure this time around. Dumbledore had seemed to think that Harry's more Slytherin tendencies had come from that piece of Tom Riddle's soul. Apparently he was wrong. Which was strangely reassuring. It meant that Dumbledore was imperfect. It meant that maybe Harry could do a better job with this whole Voldemort thing after all.

It also meant that Harry needed to do some research.

It seemed forever and a day until his Hogwarts letter arrived. This time he quietly seethed when he read the address before handing the letter to his uncle along with all of the other mail. Post raining through the mail slot was as brilliant the second time around as it was the first time around though. This time, Harry remembered to steal several letters throughout the post phase.

In the end Hagrid came for Harry just as Harry hoped that he would. Harry spitefully allowed the giant to pin a pig's tail on his cousin again. He had forgotten how vengeful unrelenting drudgery made him. His summers had never been easy or pleasant but they had certainly been better than his pre-Hogwarts life. Life without magical threats or protectors, however, sucked. Aside from anything else, he had room to stretch his legs in Dudley's second bedroom. The boot cupboard provided no such luxuries. And it was odd to be accountable to adults again after nearly a year of being out on his own with Ron and Hermione.

Everything happened in the pub the way it happened the first time and Diagon Alley was as magical with Hagrid as it was the first few summers. Hagrid breathed happiness into the things he touched. That was probably why he got along so famously with all those horrible creatures of his.

This time Harry thought to take extra gold from his vault to change into pounds.

Of course Malfoy was a complete prat. This time, however, Harry could see that Malfoy was _nervous_.

"Who said Hagrid's a savage?" Harry asked, interrupting Draco's rant.

Draco glared at being interrupted. "My father."

"Have you ever even met Hagrid?"

"No. My father says –"

"What do _you_ think?"

Malfoy blinked at Harry. "I told you that my father says –"

"Yeah yeah, your _father says_. I don't care what he thinks. I'd rather know _what you think_. And _why_ you think it. Based on what you've seen of Hagrid through the widow" Harry chanced a quick glance through the glass. Hagrid was looking particularly dopey as he made faces at Harry through the glass "does he really look particularly savage or dangerous?"

"Why?" Malfoy asked. His eyes were narrowed and his nose was scrunched up. He was genuinely puzzled.

"Because I'm trying to decide if I'd like to be friends with _you_, not your father."

Malfoy stared, his mouth open and his eyes huge.

Harry grinned. "I think Hagrid's brilliant so I don't care what his job is or who his mum and dad were. He's been kinder to me than almost anyone. Besides, Harry Potter's the most powerful wizard in the world and he's a half-blood too."

"You're finished dear" Madam Malkin said.

Harry hopped off of his fitting stool and waved. "I'll see you later, Malfoy. Say hi to your mum for me!"

Then Harry ran off to rejoin Hagrid.

Of course Hagrid bought Hedwig for Harry – dear sweet no-longer-dead Hedwig.

Harry really did cry over his first birthday present as he reached through the bars with trembling fingers to pet her soft feathers. Hedwig opened one tawny eye to peer at Harry but otherwise allowed him to touch her.

"Here now, none of that" Hagrid said, obviously distressed by Harry's tears. "If you don't like her – "

"I love her!" Harry interrupted fiercely. "This is the best gift anyone _ever_ gave me. _Ever_."

Hagrid flushed with pleasure.

In the wand shop everything went the same as before – except for the part where Harry met his wand. As soon as the right wand entered the room, there was a little burst of power and an impression of overwhelming excitement that put Harry in mind of a new puppy. A wand box at the bottom the stack Mr. Ollivander was floating across the room jerked and buckled then burst open. The wand zipped across the room and smacked into Harry's outstretched hand. Power flooded the length of Harry's arm as he automatically swished the wand. Golden sparks burst from the end of it. Another flick and swish sent all of the other wands and their boxes sailing back to their places.

Hagird cheered. Mr. Ollivander's eyes bugged out.

"Curiouser and curiouser" the old man muttered.

After that Harry's day went pretty much as expected except for their trip to the shop where Harry had originally bought his trunk. Instead of buying the standard trunk that Hagrid pointed out, Harry borrowed a quill and a bit of parchment from the shop owner and jotted down a very specific list of requirements. Some of them were rather ordinary like adding a feather-light charm but others were a bit more eccentric like adding a cavern level like the false Mad-Eye Moody.

"Have you got anything like that?" Harry asked.

The old man frowned and scratched his whiskery chin. "This'll have to be a custom job" he said at last. "Especially since most of the locks require your blood or your blood and magical signature to unlock."

Harry nodded. "How much?"

The old man quoted a steep price but he seemed earnest, even a bit excited, over Harry's trunk requirements.

When Harry and Hagrid left, the old man was rubbing his hands together gleefully.

"That's an awful lot to pay for a trunk" Hagrid said doubtfully as they left the shop.

Harry shrugged. "It'll be worth it." He grinned up at Hagrid. "I plan to do a lot traveling after Hogwarts."

Hagrid nodded his large, shaggy head. "It's good to have dreams" he said gruffly.

Harry wondered what the half-giant dreamed of. He did not get the chance to ask since Hagrid's face brightened.

"Have I told ya 'bout my sweet Miriam?"

* * *

Draco was frowning and staring out of the window when Narcissa and Lucius returned from their personal errands.

"Is anything wrong?" Narcissa asked, a little burst of worry clutching at her heart.

'I knew it!' she thought fiercely. 'We never should have left him to pick out his school robes by himself! Something went wrong! Lucius was wrong that he needed to be more independent and I'm never –'

Draco slowly shook his head. "I met the oddest boy. He said to say hello to you for him. Well, he actually said 'say hi to your mum for me!' but that can't be right because how would he know you?"

A little frisson of interest and relief jolted through her heart. Nothing had gone wrong!

"A boy?" Narcissa asked aloud. "With dark messy hair? Dressed in over sized rags?"

Draco nodded. "He called me Malfoy."

"What did he say?" Lucius asked as he shrunk Draco's things and paid the shopkeeper.

"Not a lot. But at the end he said that he didn't care what my father thought about Hagrid." Lucius stiffened. Narcissa closed her eyes. Of course Harry would take after his parents and Bella and Sirius. Of course. She should be resigned to such thoughtless displays of –

"He wanted to know what _I_ thought" Draco continued, sounding confused.

Narcissa's eyes snapped open.

"Why would he make such a distinction?" Lucius asked, still clearly miffed over Harry's dismissal of his opinions.

"Because – Because –" Draco slid an uncertain look to his father then deliberately focused all of his attention on Narcissa. "He said he was trying to decide if he wanted to be friends _with me not my father_."

This was clearly an astounding concept for Draco. All of his friendships and alliances were made on the basis of his parents' friendships and alliances. As far as Narcissa knew, Draco had never been confronted with someone who was completely uninterested in his parents' opinions and solely focused on Draco himself.

"What did you say then?" Narcissa asked as she gently ushered her son through the doorway and onto Diagon Alley's high street.

This might be good for Draco.

"I didn't say anything. Madam Malkin said he was finished with his fitting. The boy said that he liked Hagrid because Hagrid had been kind to him and that Harry Potter was the most powerful wizard in the world and a half-blood." Draco frowned up at her. "Is Harry Potter a half-blood?"

Harry was starting to get an inflated opinion of himself. It would be good to have a word with him before it went too far.

"No" Narcissa said before Lucius could. "He's as wizardborn as you are. His mother was a muggleborn though."

Draco nodded. His little chest puffed up. "So he didn't know what he was talking about after all!"

"He was not entirely wrong" Narcissa corrected. "He just doesn't entirely understand what 'half-blood' means. This all must be very confusing for the poor dear."

"You know him?" Draco gaped up at her. It was a dreadfully unattractive expression in general and yet it was absolutely adorable on Draco. "How could he not know what a 'half-blood' is?"

"Harry Potter has been raised by muggles" Narcissa said carefully. "He's only just rediscovered our world so it's all very confusing for him."

"Harry Potter?" Draco shouted. "That was Harry Potter!"

Oh dear.

* * *

The Monday after Harry returned from his trip to Diagon Alley with Hagrid, an unknown eagle owl swooped through Harry's window. It landed on one side of Hedwig's stand and imperiously offered its leg to Harry. Harry offered the new owl a treat then untied the message.

Dear Mr. Potter,

As you previously requested I have located both the solicitor for the Potter estate as well as arranged interviews with several reputable solicitors. I would like to make the proper introductions for you. Are you available this Thursday for introductions around nine in the morning?

I hope to hear from you soon.

Your cousin,

Narcissa Malfoy

Harry quickly penned a message back.

Dear Mrs. Malfoy,

I can meet you at nine a.m. in Diagon Alley in front of Gringotts. I'll see you then.

Harry Potter.

That Thursday, Harry got up early and caught a muggle bus into London. The Knight Bus was more convenient in terms of entry and exit but it was uncertain what time that bus would get anywhere. The muggle bus, while requiring a bit of a walk on either end, was certain to arrive in London by eight a.m.

Plus he was Harry-sodding-Potter and he might just have to blast stupid Stan into oblivion for joining the Death Eaters. Or being stupid enough to later join the Death Eaters. Whatever.

Harry got to Gringotts before nine a.m. Mrs. Malfoy arrived precisely on time. She then led him up and down Diagon alley and the alleys connected to it for several hours, introducing him to solicitors. His favorite was a middle-aged no nonsense solicitor with sharp gray eyes and her pale white-blond hair up in a bun. Ms. Bones was the first to make Mrs. Malfoy sit in the waiting room on confidentiality grounds.

"Will anything I tell you stay a secret?"

"Yes, unless it involves an ongoing crime or the possibility of someone death."

"You won't tell Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Of course not."

"Or Professor Dumbledore?"

"No."

Harry nodded. "And no one can magic it out of your head?"

"All legal representatives are required to master the art of Occulomency. In addition every member of my staff required to demonstrate some proficiency with Occulomency. Any matter handled by this office will remain confidential."

And Dumbledore had the gall to say that only Professor Snape could teach Harry occulomency?

"I'd like for you to be my solicitor."

"I thought Elphias March of Goodwin, March, and Thompson was handling the Potter Estate."

Harry straightened. "He's not looking out for my best interests! He's letting Dumbledore pretend to be my guardian and loot my family vaults! Dumbledore left me with muggles who starved me and locked me in a boot cupboard for the last ten years. And he _knew_ they were doing it!"

Ms. Bones' eyes narrowed. "Are you certain?"

"Yes." Harry dumped a handful of letters addressed to the boot cupboard on the table as well as the one addressed to 'The Floor' of that wretched little hut.

Ms. Bones pursed her lips.

"And he took my father's invisibility cloak from my vault. And a box of letters my parents left for me! And he's been making monthly withdrawals from my vault but I'm still dressed in rags and have broken glasses and living in a cupboard. Well, my relatives let me stay in my cousin's second bedroom after Hagrid told them that I'm going to Hogwarts and yelled at them for they way that they treat me." Harry paused for a beat then deliberately added, "Even though they tried to beat my magic out of me."

Ms. Bones jerked. Her eyes lit with the sort of fire that Professor McGonagall had during the siege of Hogwarts.

"If I were your solicitor – and I make no promises yet – what would you wish me to do?"

"Make Albus Dumbledore return my invisibility cloak, my letters, and my money and return me to Sirius Black who is my appointed guardian. He would never have let any of this happen to me."

"Sirius Black betrayed your parents and killed thirteen people with a single curse."

"He did not!" Harry said as hotly as if he really were fifteen and arguing with Mrs. Weasley in the Blacks' kitchen. "He wasn't their Secret Keeper! Peter Pettigrew was! Pettigrew gave my parents to Voldemort!"

"After Sirius Black finished with him, the largest piece left of Pettigrew was a finger."

"What if it was a trick? What if he knew some sort of magic that no one else knew that he could do? What if Pettigrew used that magic to get away but killed those people and left that finger to frame Sirius?"

Ms. Bones eyes narrowed. "Do you have proof for any of this?"

Harry hesitated for a moment. It was tempting to say "My dad said 'Damn you Peter!' when Voldemort attacked!" or "I remember Wormtail gloating to my parents about Voldemort's eventual triumph!" but what if they expected him to testify under veritaserum?

"I remember some of the night Voldemort came" Harry admitted as all the blood drained from Ms. Bones' face. "But I don't remember Peter Pettigrew being there. Just Voldemort and my parents. But I don't remember everything from that night – just – just their deaths. And when Voldemort cursed me with Avada Kedavra."

Ms. Bones was pale and shaking. Her lips were even a bit blue. Her knuckles and fingernails were white and red from her grip on her desk.

"We could find Peter Pettigrew" Harry offered hopefully. "And I bet one of my dad's old friends would know if Peter knew any special magics. Sirius would know for sure!"

Ms. Bones closed her eyes and took several deep breathes. When she opened her eyes, they were firm and solidly set.

"Mr. Potter provided that my firm has no conflicts of loyalty I will be your solicitor. I'll handle your complaint against your estate's manager. I'll look into your complaints against Dumbledore. And I'll quietly see what can be dug up about the matter of Sirius Black."

Harry grinned with relief. "Yeah? Thanks. Are we done here?"

"Except for the matter of the fealty oath." At Harry's confused frown she smiled slightly and added, "I have to give it to you. Mr. March should have given it to you when the Potter estate passed to you."

"Oh."

She pulled a slim scroll from one of her desk drawers. "Please read over this while I perform the conflict check. Then we will discuss my retainer fee and perform the fealty oath."

Harry nodded. "Sure. Thanks again."

"Don't thank me yet Mr. Potter."

* * *

Mr. Malfoy and Draco were waiting for Harry and Mrs. Malfoy outside of his new solicitor's office. Both Malfoys were staring at Harry with openly appraising expressions. Mr. Malfoy looked a bit less predatory than he had in Harry's second year and much more predatory than he had towards the end of the previous timeline.

"Good morning darling" Mrs. Malfoy said without an ounce of surprise as she pressed a brief kiss to Mr. Malfoy's cheek then took his arm. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Only a few minutes" Mr. Malfoy reassured her at the same time that Draco huffed an equally quick response.

"Forever!" Mr. Malfoy glared at his son. Draco hunched his shoulders and hurriedly added, "But we didn't mind."

Harry smirked. Draco flushed and glared at Harry.

"This is my husband, Lucius Malfoy."

Harry studied the man. He was tall and slim and proud. He did not look like he jumped at loud noises or cringed away from people. He was not sneering or even particularly cruel looking. He was simply… curious, cunning, and a bit imposing.

"Good morning sir."

"Harry this is my son Draco" Mrs. Malfoy said, her tone loving and indulgent when she said her son's name.

"That means he's my cousin too." This time around Harry offered Draco his hand. "It's nice to see you again."

Draco hesitated a moment the straightened his spine and shoulders. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance" he said stiffly, clearly falling back on his formal manners, as he shook Harry's hand.

It was such a difference from the train meeting that they were supposed to have that Harry actually laughed. Draco scowled and snatched his hand back.

"Don't be like that!" Harry said cheerfully. "It's just that you weren't like that a moment ago. It was like you flicked a switch or a manners charm or whatever."

"Manners are very important" Draco said snottily.

"It's too late to fool me with them" Harry retorted, relentlessly cheerful if only to aggravate Malfoy even more. "We've already met. What's your favorite quidditch team?"

Draco blinked as he automatically replied, "The Dragons."

"For their players or because they share your name?"

"Both!"

Harry laughed again. "I heard they were the eternal rivals of the Chudley Cannons."

Draco sniffed. "The Cannons are a joke. They should be drummed out of the league."

"The Dragons aren't much better!"

"You follow the Cannons?" Draco said in tones of vast and intense outrage.

"I don't have a favorite team yet. Haven't even been to a quidditch game yet. At least, not that I can remember."

"Really? They're amazing!"

The boys fell into step behind the adults as Draco began to describe the last Quidditch World Cup. It involved a lot of arm waving.

Harry grinned.

Malfoy wasn't truly nasty or spiteful yet. He wasn't even a baby Death Eater yet. He was just a spoilt child who wanted to be liked and hated being laughed at. His love of quidditch made him a lot more likeable though. Harry blamed Ron for that particular prejudice.

Lunch with Draco and his parents was exponentially more nerve wracking than with Mrs. Malfoy alone. Draco had perfect manners, of course. Harry tried to imitate him. Draco helpfully took his time selecting his silverware and in arranging his grip on it. The adults sat nearby and quietly gossiped, although they were probably eavesdropping on Draco and himself. He and Draco were still talking about quidditch.

"I want to be a Seeker at Hogwarts!"

"Really? You'd be happier as a chaser."

Draco blinked. "You've never even seen me fly."

Morgana's tits! Why did he always run off at the mouth? What was he going to say 'I've seen you play. You're a good Seeker – better than average. But you aren't a great one. That's why you had to buy your way onto your house team second year. Trust me – you'll be a better chaser.'

Harry shrugged. "I look at you and I think chaser. You're slim and quick and –" Harry flicked a pea at Draco's face. Draco's hand darted up and snatched it out of the air. He glared at Harry. " – and you have good hand-eye coordination."

"The same stuff is true about Seekers and Seekers are the most important players on the team!"

Draco put the pea on the very edge of his plate.

"I thought the captain was the most important player on the team 'cause he calls the shots. He's the only one you can't replace."

Draco paused, his mouth open, and then thoughtfully closed his mouth.

Harry grinned.

"You never said what house you want to be in" Draco suddenly remembered.

Harry squirmed. "I think – I think I belong in Slytherin –"

"We could be housemates!"

"But I'll probably choose Gryffindor."

"What!" Draco looked scandalized. "Why wouldn't you want to be in Slytherin? It's the best house!"

"My parents were in Gryffindor. How else am I supposed to get to know them?"

Draco blinked. "I don't understand."

"I think I'd do okay in either house. Maybe I'd be a bit better off in Slytherin but if I go with Gryffindor, I'll get to see and do the things my parents did. And I'll be able to meet their friends. I'll be able to get to know them."

Draco scrunched his nose up. "Why not just ask your relatives?"

"They hate my parents. I didn't even know I was a wizard until Hagrid told me. My family told me I was just a freak."

"A freak! They don't even have magic!"

"Mmmm. Asking them for anything is a bad idea. Even if they answer, they'll probably just lie to me."

Draco actually looked thoughtful. "So you're going to pretend to be a Gryffindor so that the Gryffindors will tell you the truth about your parents?"

"I'll be a Gryffindor. When I join that house, my loyalty will be to them."

"That's a cunning plan" Lucius Malfoy interjected "worthy of a Slytherin. But the Sorting Hat is not so easily manipulated."

Harry's eyes flicked to Draco's parents. He focused on Mr. Malfoy.

"Then I'll make it do what I want."

The older man raised his eyebrows at Harry. "How?"

"I'll think of something" Harry said, aware that the confidence oozing from those four words was probably remarkably unattractive. He probably sounded a bit arrogant.

Mr. Malfoy smirked.

Mrs. Malfoy smiled that small smile again. "Family is important to you."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I mean I hate my muggle relatives and they hate me even more but I wouldn't let anyone hurt them either. They're my family whether I want to be related to them or not."

Some emotion flickered across Mrs. Malfoy's face too quickly to be identified but she nodded as if she understood. Maybe she was thinking about Sirius and Regulus and his dad and her wildly different sisters. Harry was thinking about ministry traps and Narcissa Malfoy and Sirius Black and Bellatrix LeStrange. Somehow it was all so much worse now that he knew he was related to all of them.

If things were different, he would have already killed Voldemort and be trying to raise Teddy right now. Would Headmistress McGonagall have let him bring a baby into the dormitories? Teddy who was also technically his distant cousin. Would he have ever known that if not for Mrs. Malfoy?

The rest of lunch passed quickly and pleasantly. Harry thanked his hosts then excused himself after lunch.

That night on his way home from the bus stop, Harry was stalked by several cats. Most of them were probably the neighborhood kneezles but one of the cats was a tabby with glasses markings. A certain animagus was spying on him for Dumbledore. There were a lot of strangely dressed "muggles" hanging around his relatives' house after that.

The second lunch with the Malfoys in London was equally pleasant. When he got home, however, there was a house elf waiting for him in Dudley's second bedroom.

Harry's heart nearly burst with happiness.

"Harry Potter is a great wizard!" Dobby shrilled as Harry lunged at the elf. He kept shrilling even while Harry hugged the elf so hard that Dobby's feet came off the floor. "Oh! No one has ever – This proves what a great wizard Harry Potter is! He must not consort with the bad wizards!"

"Dobby! I'm so glad to see you!"

"Harry Potter knows my name!"

Dobby trembled as Harry reluctantly set Dobby on his feet and released his death grip on Dobby.

Dobby moaned. "I called Master a bad wizard!"

Then Dobby took a running leap at the wall across from him, head first. Only experience and several years of quidditch prepared Harry to grab Dobby as he sailed through the air. Unfortunately for Harry, he was quite a bit smaller than when he had first met Dobby. They ended up on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs and ears.

"Oh no!" Dobby wailed. "Dobby has injured the great and kind Harry Potter!" Still tangled with Harry he began to bang his head on the floor. "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

Harry slipped his hand between Dobby's head and the floor as he hissed, "Shut up Dobby!"

Dobby stilled before he smashed his forehead into Harry's hand. Huge drops of saltwater plopped into Harry's outstretched hand.

"Harry Potter is trying to protect wretched Dobby!" the elf sobbed. "Kind Harry Potter! Gentle Harry Potter! Wretched, unworthy Dobby doesn't –"

"Dobby I know that Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater. But he has something that I need."

Dobby stilled. "Dobby can get it for Harry Potter! Then Harry Potter will not have to deal with Master any longer!"

Harry winced as he tried to imagine what sort of punishment Dobby would give himself over that. Would he end up beheaded like the elves at Grimmauld Place? Was it possible to behead yourself with magic?

"Harry Potter will get it for Harry Potter" Harry said firmly. "I don't want Dobby to get punished."

Dobby burst into tears. "Harry Potter is a great wizard! Dobby will protect him!"

_Crack_!

Dobby was gone. Harry stared at the wet spot on his shirt.

"My first death threat" he muttered. "I didn't even make it to Hogwarts first this time around."

Despite his babysitters, Harry had lunch with the Malfoy family three more times before school started. It was surprisingly easy to lose them on public muggle transport. Who sent a bunch of muggle-ignorant purebloods to watch a kid living in the muggle world? And what did it say about Harry himself that he found himself grudgingly liking the Malfoys – even the sane, non-hostile Mr. Malfoy.

The adults loved each other and adored Draco. Draco adored them. He felt safe with them and it showed. In Draco's world nothing could go wrong so long as his family was together. Years later that would translate into attempting an impossible, near suicidal mission to protect his parents from Voldemort's wrath. They were a real family.

For the first time, Harry wondered if his family would have been like that if either or both of his parents had lived. He liked to think that they would have been. He liked to think that he would have had brothers and sisters, a grim on weekends, and a werewolf in the basement on full moons. Would he and Teddy have been like that? Not exactly the way it would have been with his own parents but that same sort of happiness? What if he had married Ginny? Would they have been happy together? Would she have minded raising Teddy with him? Would Teddy have been happy with her?

Changing time and events made one think about strange things. "What ifs." It was irritating. Only irritating. Nothing else.

Harry concentrated on reading his owl ordered books on blood magic (old, moldy, and hardcover), occulomency for idiots (new and paperback), legimancy for dummies (old, moldy, and hardcover) and magical majorities (also new and paperback). He also reviewed his newly purchased sixth year textbooks and practiced the meditation techniques in the occulomency and legimency books. At least when he was taking notes he was too busy to worry about things that had never been. And in some cases would never be if he did things right. This time around Teddy was going to have a real mum and dad – even if Harry had to seal them in a room with him to make them do the right thing.

It was his prerogative as Teddy's godfather after all.

About midway through the summer Harry approached his uncle with a request.

"Uncle Vernon? I need to be in London August thirtieth by ten a.m. Can you take me?"

"No. We're going the next day to take your cousin to the doctor. Got to have that ruddy tail removed. Wait until then."

"I can't. Can I go by myself?"

Harry's Uncle finally looked away from the telly to glare at him. "Going to steal from your Aunt's purse again, are you?"

Harry tried to look ashamed.

"No. I was going to ask Hagrid – the one who collected me for my school supplies – for bus fare."

His uncle snorted. "See that you do. We won't abide you stealing from us!"

Harry nodded. "I won't. So… er… it's okay if I go then?"

"We don't care what you do."

"Um… Thanks."

Harry Potter left Privet Drive bright and early on August thirtieth. The first thing that he did was get a room at the Leaky Cauldron. Tom was as friendly as Harry remembered and he did a good job of trying not to treat Harry as anything particularly special. He made sure that Harry's room was particularly secure however. The second thing Harry Potter did was buy an excellent camera and film. Photographs were more Colin Creevey's thing than Harry's but Harry had a need. The third thing Harry did was buy some decently fitting clothes in muggle London.

Early in the morning on August thirty-first, Harry went to visit with Mrs. Bones, his solicitor.

"Magically you're a legal adult."

Harry stared at his solicitor. "I'm what?"

"Magic is a combination of many things Mr. Potter. There is even a theory that one's magical strength is a reflection of the strength of one's soul. Thus a wizard's magical signature changes and grows throughout the wizard's lifetime. Regardless of the theory behind magic, in the wizarding world majority is determined by the average age at which a young wizard or witch's magic starts showing the markers that indicate maturity on the part of the young witch or wizard. Generally, that's around seventeen. Although you're eleven and your magic does not appear to be fully developed as of yet, there are enough matured elements that magically speaking, you're an adult. So much so that the ministry's trace on underage magic has not even attached itself to your wand."

"But – what does this mean for me? For the things that I want?"

"For one thing, you can apply to be emancipated. That means you would be a legal adult in every sense of the word."

"The Wizarding World _does _that sort of thing? I'm only eleven!"

"It is an ancient law that was last used about four hundred years ago. The Wizgamot has yet to overrule it. And with the current makeup of the court, I doubt that they could. This solution to the loss of your cloak and coin will be quicker than proving Sirius Black's innocence and getting your proper legal guardian to challenge Professor Dumbledore's takings. I have yet to find anything useful in regards to the Sirius Black matter."

Harry slowly nodded. "Okay. Will it work?"

His solicitor's eyes became distant. "It would in part depend on the barrister we retain but I believe that there is a seventy percent possibility of success."

Harry nodded. "Is there any way that I could improve my chances?"

"If you could wait a few years until you're older, preferably until after you've sat your O.W.L.S."

"No."

"Or if we could find a copy of your parents' wills."

"You haven't found them yet?"

Ms. Bones' smile was small and wry. "They seem to have mysteriously vanished at some point in the last few years."

Harry glowered. Evil manipulative Dumbledore!

"That's it? Those are the only ways I could help my case?"

"I'm afraid so."

"What if – What if I took my O.W.L.S tomorrow and passed? Would that be enough?"

Ms. Bones sat up sharply. "Mr. Potter that is quite impossible."

"But if I _could_, would that help my case?"

"Yes. It would go a long way towards proving your strength and independence. Many members of our society go one to lead vital productive lives after only sitting their O.W.L.S."

"I could pass them tomorrow."

"Mr. Potter you have yet to have a single magical lesson and – "

The memory of Remus at Teddy's birth. Remus asking him to be Teddy's godfather.

"Expecto Patronum!"

The magic felt…odd. Uneven. There was Harry's usual magic, of course, but there was some new element to it as well. It was… unfamiliar. And powerful.

A gigantic Prongs bounded out of the tip of Harry's wand and ran the length of the room, wheeled about before ever touching the wall, and came galloping back to them. Harry's patronus peered at him expectantly.

"Merlin" Ms. Bones breathed.

"There isn't anyone here to protect me from, Prongs" Harry said a bit sadly. "I just needed to prove that I could."

The stag leaned forward until he was almost but not quite nibbling Harry's hair. He disappeared. So his dad really didn't mind this being his choice at the train station. Harry bit the inside of his lip and turned his attention back to his solicitor.

His voice when he spoke was low and rough.

"I'm not saying that I could get an O in every class. And I couldn't pass Arithmacy or Divination or Ancient Runes. But I could pass everything else with an 'Acceptable' or better."

"I – I'll have the paperwork ready to be filed by tomorrow."

Time to make her understand how important this was to him. Another six years of abuse would be unbearable. Harry hated to admit, even to himself, how poorly his relatives tended to treat him but at this moment he would do what was necessary to achieve his goals. And what was necessary was for Ms. Bones was to understand that Dumbledore and his muggle relatives were terrible guardians.

"Ms. Bones this is a very important matter for me. If I cannot have my preferred guardian then I must be responsible for my own welfare. I have spent the last decade being treated like a house elf. I cook, I clean, and I garden for my relatives. They beat me, forget to feed me for long periods of time, dressed me in my cousin's cast offs, and make sure that no one in their neighborhood will speak to me or help me. I have spent the last ten years sleeping, and frequently locked, in a boot cupboard under the stairs. It was dark, I was hungry, and there were a lot of spiders. My only crime was that I didn't die with my parents." In the face of Ms. Bones' open horror, Harry slowly and deliberately added "Professor Albus Dumbledore knew what they were like and he knew what they were doing to me but he left me there anyway. _He knew how they treated me and he didn't care_. I don't want everyone to know how I was treated but I will do almost anything to escape being under _anyone's_ power ever again."

Ms Bones nodded. Her age seemed particularly heavy in that moment and her wrinkles exceptionally deep. Her expression was grim.

"One way or another Mr. Potter, I will not fail you."

Mrs. Bones and Harry went over a few more matters and the meeting ended just before lunch. Harry ate lunch in Tom's tavern, sitting at the bar and chatting with Tom. Tom, Harry realized, was very good at keeping other witches and wizards away from him. Harry had never noticed it the first time around, but Tom was a very good protector. After lunch Harry went to pick up his custom made trunk.

The trunk was the same size and shape as a standard student trunk. It was covered in stained dark brown leather – or perhaps that was cured dragon's hide? – and a pattern of literally dancing flames embossed around its edges. Directly under the lock a knot of coiling serpents was carved into the front of the trunk. At first glance, it appeared to be a standard student trunk with only one compartment.

"Set a password for the trunk" the trunk-maker said as Harry unlocked the trunk's main compartment with a key. "The spell to change the password is _nomine_."

Harry paused a moment, his eyes fixing on the serpents slithering and writhing together as he tried to think of an unusual password.

"_**Nomine. Teddy Lupin."**_

Harry turned the key in the lock and swung the lid open. The main compartment had been magically lengthened, widened, and deepened so that it had about twice as much space inside as Harry's original trunk had.

"Now press your finger to the lock" the trunk-maker said, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

Harry yelped. There was a stinging pain in his fingertip and the sense of a tongue licking over the wound. When he yanked his finger back, there was not a single mark on it.

"It's attuned to your blood and your magic now. After you unlock the trunk with the key and passwork, you can access the other two sections by pressing your fingertip to the lock. You can also password protect the other two drawers of your trunk if you like. You can even use different passwords."

Harry nodded. "Where are the other drawers?"

"Tap the snake directly under the lock."

Harry did so. A second drawer grew into existence underneath the first drawer. Harry pulled it open. It was just as spacious as the top drawer. When Harry slid the second drawer shut again, it disappeared.

"Now tap the flame in the bottom pattern that is directly under the lock and the snakes."

When Harry did, the entire bottom line of flames slid outward. It was a thin line of leather, about a centimeter wide, that pulled out as far as a proper drawer. Stairs led from it down into the dark. Lighting the tip of his wand, Harry leaned over to peer into the darkness. It was a cave, exactly like the one in Mad-Eye Moody's trunk. Harry leaned back and slid the third drawer shut again.

"There's a feather light charm already on it. The trunk will also shrink or allow transfiguration. It cannot be enlarged or put into any sort of extra dimension, however, due to the extra dimension in the third drawer."

"Perfect!" Harry beamed as he pulled out his coin purse. "How much do I owe you?"

Harry paid the rest of the trunk's purchase price plus a heafty tip.

"Why the snakes?" Harry asked as he picked up his trunk.

"It seemed appropriate." The man flashed Harry a shaky smile. "You're for Slytherin, right?"

Harry shrugged. "I'll be happy wherever I go."

The trunk-maker smiled. "Good luck then, Mr. Potter."

* * *

"Where is Harry?" Draco's mother asked for the third time. Her chin was tilted up as she scanned the busy train platform for Harry's messy dark hair.

Even Draco's father was looking for Harry. His eyes scanned the platform and he was frowning ever so slightly.

Draco was torn. He liked Harry – sort of. He was irritating and had a smart mouth and was too familiar with Draco. But he was fun. And he had said that he wanted to be Draco's friend, not his father's. Harry had not asked his father for anything as far as Draco knew. He had asked Draco's mother for a solicitor though, although Draco still had not found out why.

But did Draco's parents really have to worry about him? They were only supposed to worry about Draco! And why were they even thinking about him on the most important day of Draco's life? Today meant that he wasn't a little boy anymore!

"I'm sure he's fine" Draco said, wishing his parents would pay proper attention to him. "He gets to Diagon Alley by himself all the time. He'll catch the train."

"But he has no one to say goodbye to him!" His mother fretted. "Everyone should have someone to say goodbye to on the Hogwarts Express Platform!"

"No one is saying goodbye to me" Draco sulked. "You're both busy looking for Potter."

Both of his parents looked at him at that.

"Darling" his mother said, her soft hand coming to rest on his shoulder. "We aren't forgetting about you. But if things were different… If anything happened to your father and I… I would like to think one of your cousins would look after you."

Draco bit his tongue and looked away. He was still jealous and now he felt guilty about that. A familiar movement caught his attention. Draco narrowed his eyes. Potter was with a couple of bigger, redheaded boys. They were helping Potter with his trunk.

"There!" Draco said. He nodded at the appropriate carriage which was a several carriages back from the one that he was going to board. "I found him. He's with those redheads."

His father's mouth tightened. "It's his first day and already Harry is falling in with the wrong sorts."

Then his parents were hugging him and kissing him and promising to write and send sweets.

"Look after Harry, Draco!" his mother admonished him.

Draco frowned. She did not seem to notice it as she kissed him on the forehead again.

"Watch out for Dumbledore" his father said. "He doesn't like our family – either the Blacks or the Malfoys."

There were more hugs and kisses and his mother's mouth trembled like she might cry but her eyes were dry. Malfoys did not cry in public.

Then Crabbe and Goyle helped him carry his things onto the train. The very last thing Draco saw as the train pulled out of the station was his mother and father.

"Good bye Draco! We'll see you at Christmas!" his mother called. Her eyes lit on something as it passed his parents. "Good bye Harry! Be sure to write!"

"Bye Mrs. Malfoy!" Draco heard Harry shout, his excitement and happiness clear in his voice.

Draco thought that he might hate Harry Potter.


	3. Chapter 3

I own none of the copyright, trademarks, or franchise rights to Harry Potter.

* * *

There!

Ron looked so small and thin and… freckly. And terribly nervous. Harry distinctly remembered thinking Ron was tall, gangly, freckly, and only somewhat nervous the first time around.

Harry smiled.

And there were Fred and George – together and naughty and shamelessly playing off of each other.

With both ears.

And alive.

Harry nearly cried. He wanted to touch both of the twins like he had Dobby but neither would stand still and let him paw them. Everyone at Hogwarts would know he was strange in the head before the train left the station.

It was somewhat bittersweet seeing all of the people that he knew and liked, loved, or was irritated by so many years younger. For one thing they were all _alive_ and for another they were so much… lighter. And if he did things right, they would stay that way.

He tried to make sure that everything went exactly has it had the first time. Sadly, Dobby made that impossible by solidifying the barrier just as Ron and Harry ran at it.

Crash!

Harry blinked up at the ceiling of the station. Nearby, Ron groaned.

When a nearby guard yelled at them, Harry gasped the same lame excuses as he had in their second year. Meanwhile, Molly Weasley was alternately fussing over him and Ron and stabbing at the wall with her wand.

"It's most peculiar" she mumbled. "I've _never_ heard of this happening."

'_House elves are a bloody menace to society_' Harry thought fuzzily as and Ron gathered up each other's stuff and flashed each other awkward grins.

"There's nothing for it" she decided with a frown. "The platform is sealed off." At their anxious looks, she ruffled both of their hair comfortingly. "Don't worry. We'll just use the public apparition point on the platform to get across. I'll take you one at a time. First Ron, then Ginny, then you dear."

Harry grinned. "Brilliant!"

After Mrs. Weasley got them onto the platform, everything else went exactly as Harry remembered it. Except for the part where he dropped his trunk on his foot twice. That part, Harry hoped, could be safely skipped.

Harry waved his new camera at the Weasley twins, an odd sort of lump in his stomach.

"D'you mind?"

The twins looked at each other and then grinned at him.

"That's our line."

"About photographing you!"

But they posed for the picture anyway.

It sort of hurt when little Ginny wanted to meet him because he was _Harry Potter_ and not because he was her _Harry_.

Harry snapped a picture of the Weasleys on the train platform anyway.

Mrs. Malfoy sort of made up for that when she called goodbye to him though, her voice probably made louder by a sonorous charm. Harry sort of loved her just a little bit for remembering him on Draco's first day of school. As he leaned out the window to shout his goodbyes to her, Harry snapped a quick picture of Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.

When Neville and Hermione came by to look for Neville's lost toad, Harry grinned brightly.

"Haven't seen it" he said, and snapped a picture of them standing together just because he could. Hermione sniffed. Neville blushed. And Harry snapped another picture of them.

When Ron showed Scabbers to Harry, it was all Harry could do not to crush the life out of the rodent.

"I don't like rats" Harry said shortly to Ron. "Most people raised by muggles don't."

Harry hefted his camera as Ron put the fat, sleeping Scabbers back in his pocket.

"D'you mind? It was a birthday gift."

Ron shrugged and grinned.

Harry snapped a picture of him. Then he pointed at Scabbers.

"Put him on your shoulder."

"I thought you didn't like rats."

"I don't. But he's your rat."

So Ron put Scabbers on his shoulder and Harry snapped another picture of the pair. Then Ron took a picture of Harry alone then a picture with Hedwig on Harry's shoulder.

When Draco showed up, posturing and angry about something, Harry grinned again.

"Taste this!" Harry ordered and shoved a suspiciously yellow Bertie Bott's bean into Draco's mouth, halfway through his "I know who you are!" speech to Ron. He had yet to say something really offensive and with any luck, that could remain the case.

"Eugh!" Draco gagged, clutching his throat and bending double. "Snot!"

He spat the bean onto the floor of the train.

Ron laughed. Harry grinned and peeled a chocolate frog out of its wrapper. He cheerfully shoved it into Draco's mouth. This time, Draco was too grateful to protest. He did glare at Harry however.

Harry snapped a picture of Draco then held up a deck of exploding snap cards. "I bought them in Diagon Alley last week. Want to teach me how to play?"

Ron looked a bit dubious but soon enough they were all settled on the floor – even Malfoy who wrinkled his nose and looked like he wanted to protest before he spotted that Harry was already settled on the floor. Then he sat down quickly enough.

Ron and Draco practically shouted over each other in their attempts to be _the _one who taught Harry how to play cards. Crabbe and Goyle just looked confused. For his own part, Harry nodded and smiled and was secretly grateful that he already knew how to play otherwise nothing they said during their back and forth snarking and shouting would have made the slightest bit of sense. The rest of the trip to Hogwarts passed pleasantly enough until Hermione came back to tell them that they were almost there.

Harry made her take a picture of the lot of them playing Snap.

Later he made Hermione take a picture of him with Hagrid.

Harry shared a boat with Neville, Hermione, and Ron just like the first time. Hagrid was good enough to snap that photograph for him.

When Professor McGonagall told them to smarten themselves up and the others started talking about what sorts of tests they might have to take, Harry looked around at all of his year mates. They were all so young and frightened! One in every four of them could not possibly be evil or worthless. Harry smoothed his hair a bit and, remembering how things had ended up with the Slytherins before the battle of Hogwarts, turned to the nearest Slytherin-to-be girl.

"I'm Harry. What's your name?"

Her eyes became huge. "Daphne Greengrass."

Harry offered his arm to Daphne Greengrass in a move that he had seen Mr. Malfoy make to Mrs. Malfoy every time he had gone out to lunch with them. Admittedly, the only other time he had seen anyone escort anyone else like this it had been during an old American television program about a weird but extremely wealthy family of squibs. While watching it Harry had wished he had been left on their doorstep.

Daphne stared at him.

Some of the girls giggled. Most of the boys snickered.

Harry tried to remind himself that he was really seventeen years old and he didn't care what these snot-nosed brats thought. Except of course that he really did care. A lot.

"She said we should smarten ourselves up" Harry offered lamely. "There isn't much I can do about my hair but, well, I'd like the honor of escorting you in anyway."

Daphne still did not touch his arm.

Desperately, Harry tried to remember what that stupid book Ron had given him one year would have suggested. His mind was utterly blank.

Dammit!

"Please?"

Daphne's expression softened. Small, uncertain fingers took his arm. She smiled tentatively at him, her face suspiciously pink. Harry felt shockingly hot and was probably bright red himself. He grinned back, pure relief making him feel light and bright.

Next to him, Neville blushed as he offered his arm to Hermione. She sniffed but took his arm. She was blushing.

Draco offered his arm to Pansy and Ron blushed scarlet but asked to escort Hannah Abbott in. The ghost arrived sometime during the introductions and offers. They tutted about and cheerfully helped the shyer members o f the class like Theodore Nott and Tracy Davis and Nancy Moon. By the time Professor McGonagall came back, everyone was paired off and giggling as the couples took turns taking pictures of each other with Harry's camera. They followed her in two ragged lines, boys in one line escorting the girls in the other. Harry and Daphne lead the procession. Someone was good enough to pass Harry's camera up the procession to Daphne who passed Harry's camera to him just as they were entering the Great Hall.

As soon as he set foot in the room, Harry felt a little frisson of excitement and a little pop of power. Automatically Harry turned to look for its source. His eyes met Albus Dumbledore's across the length of the Great Hall. The old man was clutching his wand in an iron grip.

A murmur of sound moved through the Great Hall, like the waves at the seaside.

This time, Harry cheered for everyone who was Sorted, regardless of which House they ended up in. Of course there were whispers when it was Harry's turn. Throughout it all the Elder Wand hummed and jerked in Dumbledore's grip as it sang to Harry. Where Harry's own wand had been like an overeager puppy in its excitement, the Elder Wand was like a purposeful, if excited, wolf: it was only a matter of time until it found its way to Harry. When it was his turn on the stool, Harry desperately tried to keep his mind solely focused on remembering the way the ceiling of the Great Hall looked that night.

When Professor McGonagall plopped the hat on Harry's head, the hat once again covered his eyes.

"_Hmmmmm"_ it hummed in his head. _"I've already sorted you once before Mr. Potter but as far as I know we've never met. How can that be?"_

Harry worked very hard at only remembering the ceiling.

"_It's only the two of us"_ the hat wheedled.

'_You'll tell Dumbledore!_' Harry thought fiercely before he could stop himself.

"_I will not!"_ the hat exclaimed indignantly. _"This is just between you and me. Not even the Headmaster of Hogwarts has a right to know what happens under me."_

'_So you haven't told him anything about Tom Marvolo Riddle's mind?_'

"_No. Not even when he asks."_

Harry slowly relaxed. He felt a gentle touch skim over his relaxing mental shields.

"_A very nice beginning"_ hummed the Sorting Hat. _"Your foundations are solid but soon you'll need to find a teacher. Just a little more…"_

This time Harry felt it when the Sorting Hat slipped into his mind. He felt it rifle through his memories of the other timeline.

"_Godric and Helga never mastered those sorts of soul magics"_ the Sorting Hat said at last. _"After that unfortunate falling out with Salazar, they spent their lives trying to find a way to go back and fix things."_

'_Godric and Helga? Why would they have tried?_'

"_They shared your famous ancestor! Before she married Hufflepuff, Helga's name was Helga Gryffindor. Time – and that dratted 'history book' – seem to have forgotten that."_

'_So I'm –'_

"_Godric's heir in every sense of the word. Dumbledore was prevaricating when he told you otherwise. Helga's too if poor Tom murdered her last direct descendent."_

'_Poor Tom._' Harry considered that for a moment or two then agreed, '_He didn't deserve what happened to him. Before he grew up and became a monster. Then no one deserved what he did to them._'

"_I'd quite like to speak with you again."_

'_Because I'm a Founder's descendant?'_

"_So cynical! You're much more like Salazar than my creator! Godric has a great many descendants. Lately, I've rarely gotten through a Sorting without speaking with one of his descendents. I stand by my first assertion even if I no longer remember making it – you would do quite well in Slytherin House. You're ambitioned and destined for greatness. I wish to speak with you because you've grown up, Mr. Potter, into quite an interesting young man. At my age very few people are truly interesting anymore."_

'_Help keep making things interesting. Sort me into Gryffindor again.'_

"_I __**am**__ sorry but I can't Sort you"_ the Hat said sadly. _"Once is all anyone ever gets."_

Harry snatched the Sorting Hat off.

Professor McGonagall frowned down at him. "Mr. Potter you must leave the hat on until it finishes Sorting you."

"It won't Sort me."


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own the rights to Harry Potter books or franchise.

* * *

Harry had to choose a seat until the Sorting was over. That part was nerve wracking. He was going to be in Gryffindor so it might be best to sit with his own house. But he wanted Slytherin to be part of the whole so maybe he should give them some sort of public approval now. And he had never been particularly close to Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Maybe he should work on changing that this time around?

Once glance at the High Table, specifically at Snape's sneer and glittering black eyes, made up Harry's mind for him. Snape had already decided that he was James Potter version two. While that was useful in dealing with Sirius or Remus, it would only cut him off from his mother's best friend.

Slytherin it was.

"Budge over" he ordered Malfoy.

Draco looked surprised but moved as asked which left Harry sitting between Draco and Daphne Greengrass and across from Theodore Nott.

"Harry Potter" Harry offered Nott his hand across the table.

"Theodore Nott." He looked nervous and vaguely weedy even at eleven. His handshake was limp.

Harry nodded and settled back to watch the Sorting. Hagrid grinned and gave Harry the thumbs up. There was a lot less chatter at the Slytherin table then Harry remembered there being at the Gryffindor table on the first night. That might have been partly due to the silent and vaguely gruesome presence of the Bloody Baron. When he joined their table he settled himself more or less between Harry and Draco. Everyone at this table was quite certain that Professor Dumbledore was mad. They were less certain that this was a good thing.

Dumbledore was conducting the twins' funeral procession when, with an almighty wrench and a shower of black sparks, the Elder Wand freed itself from Dumbledore's grasp. It flew across the room, a sizzling black comet accompanied by little surprised sounds of hundreds of children. Harry's right hand shot up into the air, his fingers curling around the middle of the burning length of the wand. Thunder crackled through the room as children shrieked and flinched around him. The wand stopped glowing black. Instead gold and silver sparks burst from the wand's tip. Harry automatically slipped his hand down the length of the rod until he could hold it properly. With a flick and a swish Harry made the end of year banners drop from the ceiling – one pair of banners for each house – amid a shower of red and green and blue and yellow sparks. At the back of Harry's mind the Elder Wand's song joined with his own wand's song, a beautiful duet filled with happiness and self-satisfaction.

It was official: the wands remembered everything that had happened in the previous timeline. And they were not going to pretend otherwise.

Harry gazed around the Great Hall. The other students were staring at him with a dizzying mix of awe and fear and excitement. Snape's eyes were narrowed and smoldering. The other professors looked indignant (especially McGonagall) and speculative (especially Flitwick). And Dumbledore… Harry shivered. Not a good way to start his first school year.

Around him, hundreds of students – all of the children from every house – shouted and laughed and cheered. At least he seemed to be popular this time around.

Draco wished that the other Slytherins would hurry. Harry was in trouble!

Not that he cared about Harry. Because he didn't. Harry just didn't have anyone else to look out for him. And his mother had told him – no, asked him to look out for his cousin. If Harry had his own parents, Draco would expect them to look after him. But they were long dead and if things were different, his mum would expect Harry's parents to look after him. That was all.

He definitely didn't like Harry or anything.

It's just that everyone looked so grim – even Professor Snape! –and the Headmaster looked scary. Like he was planning to duel with Harry or something. Which was stupid.

Merlin! Why couldn't these people walk faster?

It was ten whole minutes before they got to the common room. Draco ignored the welcoming speech and headed straight for the fire.

No floo powder!

"Crabbe! Go get your emergency floo powder!"

"I don't have –"

"Stop lying and go get it!"

Crabbe lumbered after a helpful second year. Draco memorized the face. He or Harry owed that second year a favor later.

"I don't see why you care" Zabini drawled.

"He's only in trouble because he sat with us" Daphne Greengrass insisted. "Dumbledore would have laughed at that prank if Harry Potter had been sitting at the Gryffindor table."

Crabbe lumbered back with a small wooden box. Draco snatched a pinch and threw it into the fireplace.

"Malfoy Manor, father's study!"

Draco stuck his head into the fireplace. Even as his father's study spun into focus, Draco started shouting "Father! Father"

His eyes lit on a familiar figure. "You! Dobby! Go get my father!"

Crack!

A few moments later Draco's father apparated into the room.

"Draco!"

"Harry's in trouble!" Draco blurted, interrupting his father. It was done rarely and even more rarely forgiven. But this was an emergency! His father stilled. "The Sorting Hat wouldn't Sort him! And then Professor Dumbledore's wand decided to be Harry's wand instead of Dumbledore's! And then the Heads of Houses marched Harry to the Headmaster's office! And Daphne says that no one would care about the wand if Harry hadn't chosen to sit with Slytherin House until the adults could figure out what to do with him. And –"

"And why are you coming to me with this?"

Draco gaped. "Father… Mother said that I was supposed to look after Harry. But I can't fix this!"

"Go back to your common room Draco."

Draco's face fell. "Yes Father."

Draco backed out of the common room fire. Harry was doomed. And worse, everyone had seen his father deny him! How was he going to make anyone –

The fire flared green. Lucius Malfoy then Narcissa Malfoy stepped through.

Draco beamed.

* * *

"I would thank you to return my wand, Mr. Potter."

Harry was in the Headmaster's office, surrounded by the four Heads of Houses and the Headmaster.

"It's not your wand Headmaster" Harry replied as politely as possible under the circumstances. His hand tightened on the wand. "It's mine."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. So did Snape's. Everyone else just look scandalized.

"Mr. Potter!" Mrs. McGonagall scolded. "You cannot steal another wizard's wand!"

"_I_ didn't steal anything!"

"Then give Professor Dumbledore his wand back!"

"It's not his wand!"

A magical yank on the wand toward Snape. Harry tightened his grip and refused to let go, his mind darting back to a prophecy and an older Lucius Malfoy. Harry dug in his heels. Elder Wand clenched in his hand, Harry slid across the carpets toward Snape until Harry braced a foot against one of the heavy, squashy armchairs.

Harry flicked his other wand, his phoenix feather wand, at Snape.

Nothing.

Merlin! He needed to practice his wordless magic. The wandless kind would be good too.

Snape smirked. Harry glowered at him. It was Snape's fault! That was the exact same hateful expression Harry saw in most of his classes with Snape for six years! It was an automatic response!

Snape positively gloated.

A flicker of Snape, lying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, dying as he desperately looked into Harry's eyes. Lily Evans' eyes. Snape, crying like his world had ended after Harry's mum had died. And Dumbledore taking advantage of that.

Harry stabbed his phoenix wand at Snape sharply.

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry misjudged the strength of his spell or maybe he expected Snape to fend him off. Either way, Professor Snape slammed backward into the wall behind him, his expression surprised and pained. There was a squirm of guilt in Harry's chest. It took a bit of juggling to catch Snape's wand and pocket it without dropping his own wand.

If there was one person who should never be associated with the Elder Wand, it was Severus Snape. He died over that the first time through even though he had never truly belonged to it.

While the other professors gaped, Harry hurried toward Professor Snape.

"Professor Snape" he said. "I didn't mean – are you okay?"

Snape's glare knocked Harry back several steps. So much for Harry's bold new start with Severus Snape.

"Fine" he gritted out as he staggered to his feet. His face was tilted downward but Harry thought he saw a grimace. "Despite your best efforts."

Harry bit his lips as the squirm of guilt became a full grown snake.

"Mr. Potter" Professor Dumbledore said not unkindly, however the twinkle was missing from his eyes. "What makes you believe that my wand is not, in fact, my wand?"

Harry refused to let either Professor Dumbledore or Professor Snape catch his eyes. That way lay legilimency.

In the silence, the door to the Headmaster's office banged open.

Everyone – even Harry – turned to stare as the Malfoys strode into the room as the epitome of fair-haired snobbery and class.

"Harry" Mrs. Malfoy said warmly. "We received word from Draco that you had a difference of opinion with the Sorting Hat and the Headmaster."

Harry stared. No one had ever even _offered_ to protect him from the Headmaster in his previous life. No one had ever even considered that he might _need _protecting from the old man. Not even the Weasleys or Sirius. In his heart of hearts a warm little spark burst into existence.

God help him, he was beginning to love the Malfoys!

Dumbly Harry nodded.

"He keeps trying to steal my stuff."

Merlin! Could he sound stupider? Or more petulant? He sounded like someone's spoilt little brat.

Mr. Malfoy had the grace to incline his head as if Harry's whine sounded even vaguely intelligible. Maybe he had experience deciphering Draco's whines. Oh, that was no good. He was supposed to be Draco's friend this time around.

"While I always enjoy visits from members of the Board of Governors, I fail to see how any part of this matter involves either of you" Dumbledore said.

"I want them here!" Harry said fiercely. Because at this point the enemy of his enemy was definitely his friend. "Narcissa Malfoy is my cousin." He glared at Dumbledore, careful not to let the old man catch his eyes. "She's listened to my concerns and looked after my interests far better than anyone else in this room has."

Professors Flitwick and Sprout appeared to be generally scandalized. Professor McGonagall flinched guiltily. Professor Snape's expression was blank. And Professor Dumbledore was twinkling again.

"Mr. Potter, I believe that there has been a fundamental misunderstanding between us. Let us begin again. I am Headmaster Dumbledore. I was a great friend to your parents."

Harry edged away from Dumbledore – and toward the Malfoys.

"What does that have to do with me not being Sorted or my wand?"

"It is merely a helpful bit of background."

Harry nodded. "Okay. I'll keep that in mind."

"Let us steer away from the apparently touchy discussion concerning my wand, shall we? Let us instead discuss your Sorting or lack thereof."

"I'm not organized enough for Hufflepuff and I don't want knowledge for knowledge's sake so Ravenclaw is out. I'll be good in either Slytherin or Gryffindor."

Professor McGonagall sniffed sharply at that. Professor Snape snorted.

"Let us ask the Sorting Hat for its opinion." Professor Dumbledore smiled that twinkly smile, pulled a wad of battered and patched fabric from his pocket, and plopped the hat on his desk.

"I can't Sort him" the hat whined. "I won't!"

Professor Dumbledore frowned. "Mr. Potter must attend Hogwarts. His magic is certainly strong enough that he requires proper guidance."

"I don't concern myself with things like that. I just do the Sorting. And I will not Sort Mr. Potter."

Harry blinked and tried to look innocent. Everyone, except the Slytherins in the room and Dumbledore, appeared to believe it.

"Why not?"

"You know that I've already Sorted you!"

"Have not!"

"Have too!"

Ooohhh… What did it say about him that he enjoyed shouting childishly at a hat? Hermione would smack him for this if she were still seventeen and kind of scary in a comforting way.

"You didn't shout a House name for me!"

"Because you've been Sorted!"

"So shout the same name again!"

"I can't!"

"But you just said that I've been Sorted!"

"You were!"

"If you know that then you know what house I was Sorted into!"

"So what? I'm not shouting GRYFFINDOR for someone who already heard it onc – Morgana's sagging tits!" If a hat could glare, the Sorting Hat was glaring at Harry. "You tricked me!"

Harry shrugged. "Not really. I just liked yelling at you."

"Hmmph!"

"So the boy is a Gryffindor." Lucius Malfoy's face and voice were calm with no hint or inflection of amusement. Somehow Harry still got the impression that he was laughing at them all. Especially him. "Now what is this business concerning a wand?"

Professor McGonagall outlined what happened at dinner with short, crisp sentences. She ended with, "And while Mr. Potter's summoning of Professor Dumbledore's wand will no doubt earn him immense popularity with the school's pranksters, it is a serious offense! Especially since he refuses to return it!"

Harry glared and opened his mouth – probably to shout.

"Harry?" Mrs. Malfoy asked, her tones politely enquiring and not pleading or officious like Hermione's used to be or careful and cool like Ron's were. Most importantly, she seemed to be starting with the belief that Harry was right and Dumbledore was inherently wrong. It was calming in a way that Harry had never experienced before. He was still boiling with anger and resentment but it was… easier to control. "We would very much like to hear your side of events."

Well… No point in mentioning how he ended up with the Elder Wand to begin with, was there? Better save that for… later. Much later. Like after he had already killed Voldemort.

"The wand started singing to me as soon as I walked into the room. Dumbledore had to hold onto it all throughout dinner. When he was showing off by conducting the school song for the Weasley twins, it got free. Then it came to me like my phoenix wand did. Erm… The banners and the sparkles were a spur of the moment thing."

"The wand chose you?" Lucius asked delicately.

Harry nodded.

"You didn't Summon it?" Narcissa asked.

Harry shook his head.

"This is ridiculous!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed. "One wizard's wand simply does not leave him for another wizard! The wand chooses the wizard and that's the end of that!"

"This isn't the wand that chose Dumbledore" Harry protested. "He took it off of someone else. He can't even hear it sing."

"Wands don't sing, Mr. Potter" Professor Sprout interjected for the first time.

"Mine do." Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "They both do. If either of them broke, I'd feel it."

Both of his wands hummed their agreement at the back of his mind.

Lucius Malfoy sighed, as if much put upon and bored.

"Why don't we put the wand on a flat surface" Professor Flitwick suggested. "If it flies to one wizard over the other that is the wizard that the wand has chosen. Courts resolve disputes over wand ownership that way every day."

"There's no need for that" Dumbledore said as he popped a lemon drop into his mouth. "As we are all aware, I have owned that particular wand for years. Harry, give me the wand and all of this foolishness will be forgotten."

Harry slanted a look at Professor Flitwick. "Is the desk okay?"

The professor eyed the space critically. "It will be if you and Professor Dumbledore stand on either end of the room."

Harry nodded. He moved to gently place the wand on Dumbledore's desk then edged backwards until his back bumped against the left wall of the office. He was standing next to Professor Snape.

Dumbledore stood where he was.

"You're cheating! Professor Flitwick said that we have to stand back at either wall."

"I have had quite enough of this nonsense" Dumbledore said. There was a strange glint in his eyes and a steely tone in his voice. "I will no longer indulge you Mr. Potter."

Dumbledore held out his hand for the wand.

It stayed on the desk.

Dumbledore wiggled his fingers at the wand. The Elder Wand grudgingly rolled toward the edge of the desk nearest to Dumbledore.

Outraged, Harry thrust his hand out for the wand. "I'm still your wizard!"

The Elder Wand vibrated for a moment then shot off the desk. It literally flew toward Harry. A moment later it slapped itself into Harry's outstretched hand. This time it emitted a happy little rain of green and red sparkles. In his mind, the wand's song soared triumphantly. It wanted Harry and Harry wanted it. Harry was its wizard and it was Harry's wand. There was a sense of satisfaction from the wand as if it already planned to live happily ever after with Harry and the phoenix wand. Harry laughed.

A wizard who would die when he chose to and a wand that sooner or later always murdered its unwanted owners.

Harry grinned goofily down at the wand in his hand. "We match."

The Elder Wand trilled its agreement at the back of his mind before it resumed its duet with Harry's original phoenix wand.

"Regardless of whom the wand originally belonged to" Lucius Malfoy drawled. "It seems to have decided that it wishes to belong to Mr. Potter. I believe the current price for a wand at Ollivander's is seven galleons."

"I have that" Harry said cheerfully. He dug through his pockets for his coin bag. With studied distraction, honed during years of pretending to study with Hermione while actually daydreaming, Harry dumped Snape's wand, two chocolate frogs, a cauldron cake wrapper, and half a packet of Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans into the professor's hands before he found his coin bag. Snape sneered but shoved his wand and all of Harry's pocket debris into his own pocket. For his own part, Harry cheerfully counted out seven golden Galleons then placed them on the Headmaster's desk.

"I believe that accounts for all of this evening's business" Lucius interrupted smoothly. "Come Harry, allow us to walk you to Gryffindor Tower while your professors debrief."

Harry nodded. Wands in his pocket, he left the room with Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.

"Thank you for coming" he said on the revolving stairway. "Dumbledore probably would have stolen my wand and swept everything under the rug if you hadn't."

"Respectable witnesses are sometimes the best weapons against powerful opponents" Narcissa gently agreed.

"Thank you anyway. You didn't have to come." As soon as they were free of the stone gargoyle and a decent distance down the corridor, Harry turned on the Malfoys. "Did Draco really call you?"

Mrs. Malfoy smiled. "Of course he did, dear."

"And you just dropped everything and came to help me?"

"I put my glass of single malt on a side table before we left" Mr. Malfoy said sardonically.

"Why would you do that?" Harry asked, genuinely bewildered.

"Because we're _family_" Narcissa said.

Harry stared at them, helpless and suspicious in the face of such declarations. Eventually he shrugged and turned his attention to Hogwarts which was whole and magical and unbelievably tall. Harry scowled. Was he really this short as a kid?

Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy were trading significant looks as they walked but they stopped when they got to the portrait of the fat lady.

"Well this is it" Harry said awkwardly. "Good bye. Again."

"Try to stay out of trouble dear" Narcissa said fondly.

"Or at least make a larger effort not to get caught" Lucius added.

With another wave from Narcissa, they were gone. Feeling awkward and unbelievably short, Harry banged on the fat lady's portrait until someone swung the portrait open. It was Fred Weasley.

"Er… Looks like I'm a Gryffindor. Let me in?"

Fred laughed and pulled Harry into the common room.

"Look at this!" He shouted to the room filled with people. "We got Harry Potter!"

Harry grinned.

At breakfast the first day Draco looked well rested but seemed to teeter between manic energy and terrified stillness. Harry made sure to catch his eye and wave. Draco sniffed and tossed his head but looked less likely to run screaming from the room. Harry did not get lost the first day of classes and he used a spare moment to charm Mrs. Norris bright purple with wiggling pink polka dots. It was just a bit of silliness but he was just _so happy_ to be back at Hogwarts with everyone – even that evil old cat. Filch's screams actually _echoed_ throughout Hogwarts. Harry had thought no one knew it was him but Lee Jordan and the twins grabbed Harry around the neck and ruffled his hair and congratulated him on his first prank at Hogwarts.

"Who said that was my first?" Harry asked.

"Right!" George exclaimed. "How could we –"

" – forget about Dumbledore's wand?"

"Who said _that_ was my first prank?" Harry asked again, grinning. From a certain perspective, this whole serious business was one giant prank on Dumbledore and Voldemort. Merlin knows, Harry's Sirius would have laughed himself sick if he knew.

"What'd you do?" Fred demanded.

Harry shook his head. "If I tell you where's the fun in that?"

Classes were deadly dull. Harry meant to take notes and pay attention but it was honestly so boring that he could barely remain awake. He ended up doodling snitches and brooms as he wondered if Professor Flitwick would notice if he took a nap.

"Mr. Potter" Professor Flitwick said kindly during the practical portion of the class. "I understand that you are still adjusting to this environment but please try to pay attention during your professors' lectures."

"Can you teach me how to do that charm wordlessly?" Harry asked on an impulse. "Or wandlessly?"

Professor Flitwick blinked. "I don't think –"

"I can already do it with my wand. See?"

Harry quickly performed the charm perfectly. The tiny professor bounced with delight.

"Oh excellent Mr. Potter! Five points to Gryffindor!" The professor smiled kindly. "If you're serious about your request please see me during my office hours. We can go over the theory together at least."

Harry nodded. "Thank you professor."

Harry found himself asking Professor McGonagall the same question during Transfiguration when she came around to observe them practice the matchsticks into needles transfigurations.

"See me after class, Mr. Potter."

It turned out that wordless magic was easier to learn than wandless magic in both disciplines. And both professors were more than happy to allow Harry to practice the first day's charm and transfiguration lessons with them. He did not manage to perform either piece of magic wordlessly but neither professor seemed to expect him to be able to. They both recommended further practice and some outside reading on wordless and wandless magic. On the bright side the same theory and skills seemed to apply to performing all wanded magic wordlessly, wandlessly, or both.

Of course Dumbledore could not leave well enough alone. After classes he called Harry into his office. Harry went, his left hand clenched around the Elder Wand in his pocket. He was going to have to find some place secure to hide it.

Dumbledore looked far less friendly than he ever had at any point in the previous timeline. Harry wondered if he should have asked Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy to join him in the headmaster's office.

"Mr. Potter, a very serious issue concerning the wards around your aunt's home has come to my attention" Professor Dumbledore said gravely.

Harry blinked. That was… unexpected. Harry had thought Dumbledore was going to harp on about the Elder Wand again.

"The wards around your aunt's house were created by your mother using a very rare form of magic" Dumbledore continued. "They are there entirely for your own protection. Harry, I must ask what has happened this summer to deactivate your mother's wards."

The time twist. Apparently, there were more side effects than Harry had originally thought. Was he still technically an adult then? Would the trace recognize him as an adult?

Harry shrugged. "I don't know."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at Harry. "Does it have anything to do with the Malfoys?"

Harry startled. Professor Dumbledore thought that the wards going down was somehow the Malfoys' fault? The flash of triumph in Dumbledore's eyes made Harry's stomach sink. It was exactly the same expression as after Harry had told Dumbledore about what happened in the graveyard. Whatever Professor Dumbledore was thinking was not anything good for Harry.

"Harry, while the Malfoys may seem kind and generous, they do not have your best interests at heart. You must trust me in this. They were no friends to your parents. They were on the opposite side of the last war. I am one of your family's oldest friends. I have only your best interests at heart."

It required a valiant effort on Harry's part not to roll his eyes. Plotting to kill someone could rarely be considered acting with an interest in that person's best interests.

"The Malfoys have nothing to do with the wards around my aunt's house. They don't even know where I live!"

"Did they never offer to bring you home, Harry?"

Well… yes. But Harry had not accepted.

"They never went anywhere near my aunt's house."

Already Harry could feel his grip on his temper beginning to fray. Abruptly, Harry got to his feet.

"Professor, if there's anything wrong with my mother's wards, the Malfoy family has nothing to do with it. They've only done what I've asked them to do for me."

"When dealing with Slytherins such aid always comes with a price, Harry."

'_They aren't the only ones. I'm probably not the first Slytherin to Sort himself into Gryffindor_.'

"May I go, Professor? I have a lot of homework."

"Of course Harry. But my door is always open, should you wish to talk."

Harry nodded and hurried from the room. Angry and restless, Harry did not immediately head back to the tower. Instead, he wandered through the hallways until he found himself standing in front of Snape's – Professor Snape's – office door.

Harry gulped a few deep breaths.

There were things that he wanted to say to his Snape – I'm sorry I was such a brat. I'm sorry we were all such brats to you. It wasn't your fault and you didn't deserve it. My mother wouldn't have blamed you for that night. I blame Wormtail. You made mistakes but you tried to fix them. Dumbledore used you, is using you now, and he'll use you up – but no longer could.

There were things that he should say to this Snape – I'm sorry about the spell last night. I didn't mean to hurt you. Please, let's be friends – but thought that maybe this Snape would not want to hear them.

And over it all he remembered that cloying miserable feeling of worthlessness and guilt and hopelessness that he associated with his Professor Snape's memory. It had been an act of sheer determination for Professor Snape to get out of bed in the morning. Harry did not know what to call that feeling but whatever it was, Professor Snape felt a lot of it over Harry's mother. Or seemed to feel more of it after she died. Whatever the cause, he did not deserve to be treated so cruelly by… well, any of them.

But what did Professor Snape need Harry to say?

Harry rapped on the door.

"Enter!"

When Harry walked, Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Mr. Potter your lesson is not until Friday."

"I'm sorry!" Harry blurted. "I didn't mean to hit you so hard!"

Snape stilled. "But you do not regret assaulting school personnel?"

Harry shuffled his feet. He recognized that pleasant, silky drawl. Nothing good ever came of it in Harry's experience.

"I regret hurting you" Harry said carefully. "But I don't regret holding onto my wand."

"I was not hurt! And you have no right to that wand! If you truly believe that wand is _owed_ to you then you are as arrogant and self-important as your father!"

Harry winced.

Not good. He had somehow still managed to insult Professor Snape. And how could he have missed how much Professor Snape trusted Dumbledore? It was obvious! Aside from anything else, Professor Snape allowed Dumbledore to hold him together and direct the course of Snape's life! Of course he would have more regard for Dumbledore than James Potter's son. He really was an arrogant little fool.

"Did you know my father?" Harry asked, hoping that his tone was innocent and curious enough.

"I knew him much to my own misfortune" Snape sneered. "I have yet to meet a more arrogant or less deserving human being in my life."

Harry winced again. The old impulse to fight and shout and argue with the vicious professor surged. It was an effort to push it down enough to think even semi-clearly.

"Then you must have known my mother" Snape's sallow skin became chalky. He actually looked physically ill. "Did you like her better?"

"Get out!" Snape roared. "I have no more time for you to waste with your idle questions!"

Harry bolted from the room.

So much for winning friends and influencing Snape.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for all the reviews! I know that I owe some of you PMs and I promise I'll get to them ASAP. As always, I have no rights within the Harry Potter franchise nor do I own the Harry Potter copyright. This is for fun, not profit.

* * *

Harry made an effort to be friends with Neville and Hermione right from the very beginning. He worked with Neville and two Ravenclaws, Su Li and Anthony Goldstein, in Astronomy and with Neville, Ron, and Hermione in Herbology. He worked next to Hermione in Transfigurations and teamed up with Ron and Hufflepuffs Ernie MacMillan and Wayne Hopkins in DADA. Since he already knew Quirrell was untrustworthy, Harry simply worked on learning to perform the DADA lessons wordlessly on his own. Harry tried to stay awake in History of Magic but ended up sleeping through the first lesson like the first time he went through school. After that, he brought a book. Sometimes he even brought a history book to read. And in potions class, when the houses divided up to sit on opposite sides of the room that very first day, Harry went to stand at the end of the table Draco was setting up at on the Slytherin side.

"Want to be partners?"

"Sure you don't want to partner a Gryffindork?" Draco demanded snidely.

It was the first time that they had spoken since school started but Harry had made a point of at least catching Draco's eye at meal times.

"Wouldn't be asking you first if I wanted anyone else."

Draco eyed him suspiciously for a few moments before jerking his head in a nod.

As Harry noisily set up he mumbled to Draco "Thanks for – you know, calling your parents."

Draco blinked. "You're saying that _now_? You were supposed to send a card the day after!"

"I didn't know that!"

Although it did sort of explain Draco's snit since classes started. He had been positively obnoxious during meals.

"Well you do now. Meet me in front of the Great Hall at six tonight."

Then Snape swept into the room and began his yearly monologue. It was actually sort of neat and definitely truthful. Sadly, Professor Snape seemed to hate him even more than the first time around. And answering his questions correctly only made Snape's glares _worse_. There was, apparently, no way to win with Severus Snape after that first meeting in Dumbledore's office. This time instead of ending with mere point deductions the questions ended in a detention for Harry to be overseen by Severus Snape himself. The punishment was truly unfair but Harry found it hard to be angry with Professor Snape. In fact, Harry realized as he was packing up his things at the end of the lesson, he was sort of looking forward to his detention on Monday night.

When Harry met Draco at six in front of the Great Hall (Draco arrived at a quarter past six), the Slytherin was with a hoard of his house mates. But Draco fell into step on one side of Harry and Daphne and Theodore fell into step on Harry's other side and the next thing Harry knew he was enrolled in what amounted to a glorified Manners Club. But it was filled with people from other houses – there wasn't a single Gryffindor in sight – and it gave him the opportunity to meet people from all of the year groups before they potentially heard that he was a Parselmouth or a Triwizard champion or a liar. Harry struggled through calligraphy (he was terrible at it) and tried to remember when and how to leave a card (and ended up deciding that it was better to give everyone a card than to potentially offend anyone by withholding a card at the wrong time) and he was still a terrible dancer but he stuck with it. The dance lessons at least were going to come in handy whether he was entered in the Triwizard championship or not.

Draco, of course, was gleeful in his superiority to Harry.

On Saturday morning after his first week of classes had ended, Harry got a letter from his solicitor that briefly outlined her work on his behalf. He also got a package. Harry blinked at it, offered the owl some bacon, and tried to remember who might send him anything during his first year. Sadly, no one came to mind. Not even Mrs. Weasley had given him anything before Christmas.

"Well?" demanded Ron. "Aren't you going to open it?"

"Later" Harry said vaguely. "In the dorms."

And after he had had a chance to do a few diagnostic spells on it first. Harry gingerly stuffed it into his book bag and excused himself from the Gryffindor table.

Draco was waiting for him outside of the Great Hall. He was glaring.

Harry tried to remember anything he had forgotten to do but came up blank.

"Draco?"

"Aren't you going to open my mother's care package?"

Harry gaped for a moment. "That was from your mother?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course it was. Didn't you notice that I got one too?"

"Erm… no."

Draco grabbed Harry by the wrist and dragged him into the nearest classroom. "Open it!"

Harry gingerly unwrapped the parcel. Inside was a letter and sweets. Harry read the letter while Draco helped himself to a sugar quill. The letter was friendly and warm. She hoped that he had enjoyed his first week of school and that Professor Dumbledore had not bothered him any further. Mrs. Malfoy had closed by inviting him to write her back about his first week.

Harry carefully folded his letter from Draco's mom and gently put it into his book bag. Then, since Draco had yet to die from a poisoned sugar quill, Harry helped himself to one too.

What the hell was going on with the Malfoys?

Harry waited until later Saturday afternoon, after his visit to Hagrid, to use the humpbacked witch statue to sneak into Hogsmeade to get his photographs developed. He waited a few hours until they were done then sneaked back into Hogwarts the same way that he got out of it.

"Got lost" he lied when his housemates asked him where he was. "Did you know that there's a portrait of some very naughty nuns on the seventh floor?"

Later that night, safely behind his own curtains, Harry looked over his pictures. Everyone in them was smiling and happy, even the Malfoys. In fact, Mrs. Malfoy looked sort of loving at that moment while Mr. Malfoy looked indulgent. Clearly they were thinking about Draco.

Harry carefully separated the pictures into two envelopes, stuffed all of the negatives in with the pictures in one envelope, and locked them away in his trunk. He made sure that his camera, which he always carried with him in this timeline, was already in the left pocket of the robes he planned to wear the next day. It was important to keep up appearances, after all.

* * *

"You're early Potter!" Snape snapped on that first night of detention.

Since experience in the previous timeline had already proven to Harry that Severus Snape's scowl would be no less thunderous if Harry were late or precisely on time, he did not allow it to bother him.

"Yes sir. What was my mother like?"

Snape's scowl actually got darker and more forbidding before he turned away and began viciously chopping something that Harry could not quite see for the shadows in the dungeon room.

"Start scrubbing cauldrons!" he barked. "No magic!"

"Yes sir."

The work was boring but Harry's mind was seething with thoughts and questions. Severus Snape had not tried to hex him. All things considered, that was positively encouraging.

Apparently, Professor Snape enjoyed handing down that first detention as much as he had in the original timeline because Harry soon found most of his free nights claimed by Professor Snape. This time Harry tried to be less sullen about it and more… pleasant. So Harry made sure to be early every time that he had detention with Professor Snape. And every time he started detention by asking something about his mother.

"Did she laugh a lot?"

"What was her favorite subject?"

"Who was her best mate?"

Severus Snape never answered.

In mid-September Harry's solicitor wrote advising him that Dumbledore had been made aware of his petition for emancipation and that she had arranged a meeting between herself and Harry for that upcoming Wednesday during his free period.

As soon as they were left alone together in the room off of the Great Hall where Harry had been sent as a Triwizard Champion, Harry shook his head.

"This isn't the best place to talk about private stuff" he said while eyeing the portraits suspiciously.

Ms. Bones smiled. "I'll stay away from privileged information then. The emancipation hearing is on the first of November. I have already arranged for you to be excused from school on that day. As a party in the case and your de facto guardian Professor Dumbledore is not to discuss anything related to the matter with you. If he does, please tell me so at once so that I can ask the court to sanction him for behaving improperly. I – I assume your desires have not changed since our discussion in our office."

"No. I want the same things."

Ms. Bones nodded.

"An O.W.L.s examiner will arrive at this school on the first Monday in October. Your examiner will administer written and practical exams in everything except Divination, Ancient Runes, and Arithmacy. I have been researching your other concern but this is not the right place to discuss those results."

Harry nodded. He pulled an envelope from his pocket. "Can you discreetly make sure that this gets to the person I mentioned in our last meeting?"

Mrs. Bones took the sealed envelope. "May I look?"

Harry nodded. "Sure. They're just photographs from the Hogwarts Express and my first day of school."

Mrs. Bones smiled as she thumbed through the pictures. "I'll do my best."

After that almost all of that year's extracurricular events went more or less the way that Harry remembered them. Blaise Zabini stole Neville's Remembrall in flying class and Harry made Gryffindor's quidditch team while getting it back. Draco challenged Ron to a wizarding duel and Harry tagged along even though he was positive that Draco would not show up. So did Hermione and Neville. This time Harry made sure to lead them away from the charms classroom and the forbidden corridor.

Harry spent the next two weeks in the Hogwarts library frantically reviewing. With the sole exception of potions, Harry would quickly perform whatever was required of him in class then settle back to review that subject for his upcoming exams. Defense and Care of Magical Creatures were the easiest subjects to review for. Herbology, Charms, and Transfiguration required only slightly more effort. Most of Harry's reviewing was focused on Potions, Astronomy, and History of Magic. He was determined to get at least an Exceeds Expectations in all of them this time.

Harry begged off of his study groups in favor of his own cramming. Hermione, and oddly Draco Malfoy, were determined to help him revise even if Harry was vague as to why he needed to take his O.W.L.s in less than a month. Ron, Neville, and everyone else was good enough to take turns sneaking food into the library for him.

On the first Monday in October, Harry finished breakfast and found Madam Marchbanks waiting for him in that little room off of the Great Hall. She thrust a timetable at him.

As he scanned the contents of his next week, she asked "Sure you know what you're doing? Not even Albus Dumbledore took his O.W.L.s his first year."

"He didn't have the same sort of outside motivation that I do." Harry mumbled. "I don't remember agreeing to take Muggle Studies."

"You said everything but Divination, Arthimacy, and Ancient Runes" Madam Marchbanks reminded him. "You need two electives for a complete O.W.L. score."

Harry nodded absently. "It's not a problem. I grew up with muggles. It just isn't something I'd ever consider taking as a class. Not fair to anyone else."

Monday morning he had his Muggle Studies written and the practical in the afternoon. Tuesday was split the same way and dedicated to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Wednesday was Charms, Thursday was Care of Magical Creatures, and Friday was Astronomy. Next Monday was Transfiguration, Tuesday was Herbology, Wednesday was Potions, and History of Magic was on Thursday.

The lineup of exams was different and last time he either had an exam or a practical on any given day instead of having both in a single day but Harry knew he could do it. He had to. Exceptions were being made for him and if he was anything other than stunningly successful, Snape would be a git over the entire situation. That alone was inspiring. The fact that he would be out from under Dumbledore's thumb pushed him from being merely determined into the sort of do or die mentality that allowed him to kill giant snakes, hunt horacruxes, and defeat Dark Lords.

Harry looked up at Madam Marchbanks. "When do we get started?"

The next two weeks were the most grueling of Harry's Hogwarts' career in either timeline. They were not the most miserable weeks Harry had ever survived but they were decidedly unpleasant. The lack of scar pain, legilimency attacks, and battles within the faculty certainly helped Harry.

The Muggle Studies exam was depressingly easy. He finished the written exam with hours to spare and the practical exam involved things like locking and unlocking a door with a key and dressing himself in current muggle fashions and counting out pounds and pence. He got extra points for being able to navigate the London Underground with Madam Marchbanks in tow.

Defense was just as easy for him the second time around and he once again got extra points on his practical for his corporeal patronus.

The Charms practical focused on Summoning and Banishing Charms as well as Color Changing Charms, Warming Charms, and Freezing Charms.

Care of Magical Creatures was tricky since nothing on the exam tried to kill him but he had to care for a much younger Buckbeak, look after a bowtrunkle, pick the proper combination of charms and potions to combat a chizpurfle infestation on a unicorn, and find the dugbog in the bog that had been created specifically for his exam.

Astronomy was uneventful and Harry managed to completely fill out his chart and label all of the planets, moons, stars, and comets that he marked.

Harry had to Vanish a dog and then make it Appear as well as Conjure several chairs, a table, and a tea set. He lost points because his tea set was mostly white with a simple blue line around the edges instead of something more complicated and his squashy chairs were as hard as one of Professor McGonagall's straight-backed wooden chairs.

During the Herbology practical Harry had to work with Devil's Snare and collect bubotuber pus.

Harry nearly chortled with glee when he saw that the Potions exam asked questions about Polyjuice Potion and Felix Felicis and he had to brew the Draught of Peace for his potions practical.

He actually stayed awake during History of Magic this time around and finished all of the questions. Thankfully there were no questions on the last war with Voldemort.

"We're friends, right Harry?" Ron asked one night while he, Harry, Neville and Hermione (much to Ron's open horror) were studying together at one of the tables in the common room. Harry was studying the current sixth year texts that he had bought before the school year started. He insisted on studying with Ron and Hermione, even though those two were not yet friends. He also helped Hermione tutor Neville in non-herbology subjects, especially potions and defense.

"Course we are."

"Oi! Harry!" Fred shouted from across the common room where he was huddled with George and Lee Jordan. "Did you set off the dung bombs on the train?"

"No!" Harry shouted back. It had become an obsession with the three older pranksters to figure out what sort of mischief Harry had gotten up to _before_ the The Incident With Dumbledore's Wand as that first night was now being called – and what mischief he might have been responsible for since then. Apparently it was still unknown that Harry had kept the Elder Wand.

"Then why don't you include me in your pranking?"

Harry blinked at Ron. Truthfully, he had yet to actually prank anyone since that bit with Mrs. Norris.

"Oh – er – I hadn't thought you'd be interested."

"'Course I'm interested!"

"Harry!"

"Aren't we interested, Neville?"

"You could get in serious trouble!"

Neville startled. "Oh, er, um, if Harry wants –"

Neville was interested?

"Or worse! Expelled!"

"We wouldn't get caught! Harry never gets caught!"

Harry grinned. No matter how much changed, things would always be the same. It was sort of comforting. They would not really be friends until the troll… but if no one was in that bathroom when Quirrell released the troll into the castle, how would they bond? The Philosopher's Stone had tied them even tighter together. With no mystery and no stone and no near death experience to draw them together things might change – and not for the better.

"Someone will catch him eventually!"

"But we probably won't get expelled! Fred and George are still here!"

"What do you know about magical paint?" All three Gryffindors turned to stare at Harry. Harry grinned and shrugged. "It's just a thought I'd had. No one would get hurt. But we'd need to research paint and maybe ink. I'd like it to be something that can't be spelled or washed off but still fade and disappear after awhile. You know no harm, no foul."

Ron looked ecstatic. Neville looked frightened and unsure but oddly hopeful. Hermione looked deeply and thoroughly disapproving. Harry smiled. It was just like old times. If there was no real danger to draw his friends together then Harry was going to have to make something up. And if pranks worked for the marauders, then pranks could work for Harry. He would just have to be very very careful that no one got hurt.

All of the time that had originally been spent wondering about the mysterious package from Gringotts was filled with researching charms to breakdown paint, make it fade quickly, make it resistant to removal, invisibility, and slowly fading notice-me-not charms.

It was by a lucky coincidence while he was researching for their first joint prank that Harry finally found that charm Moody used on him fifth year to sneak him out of the Dursleys' and into London. Of course, Harry immediately set to work learning it. It was complex and he melted three practice dummies in the Room of Requirement before he felt confident enough to try it on himself. To Harry's immense relief he did not melt himself. He also blended into his environment.

Other things were also different. Harry got care packages from Draco's mother and he wrote to her every week (although he kept copies of the letters that he sent to her with the letters that she sent to him, just in case). Sometimes Harry studied potions with Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini. Parkinson and Zabini deeply and openly disapproved of his presence at any Slytherin event – including study groups. Studying with Crabbe and Goyle turned out to be a lot more like tutoring them and a lot less like studying.

And of course, since Harry spent so many late hours or very early morning hours conducting his private research and practice, Harry ended up frequently raiding the Hogwarts kitchen.

When Harry's new broom arrived and Draco confronted him about it, Harry grinned.

"I made Gryffindor's quidditch team" he interrupted. "Want to try it out with the rest of us after I finish meeting with the team captain tonight?"

Draco hesitated, his expression twisting between anger and envy and longing. "What kind is it?"

"Nimbus Two Thousand."

Longing won out. "I suppose" Draco agreed grudgingly.

Ron's open horror went a long way towards mollifying Draco. He even half-smiled at Harry.

Harry grinned. "You should pass the word to Theo and the others. Just in case they want to come too."

Draco nodded and promised to pass the invitation along. But that envious little spark still gleamed in his eyes. Harry, who knew Draco Malfoy better than Malfoy knew himself at this point, worried about that spark. Draco tended to do stupid things when he was acting on his emotions.

Between writing essays for his classes during breakfast (much to Hermione's rather vocal displeasure), practicing his wordless casting, quidditch practice, manners club, his own research and practice, detentions with Professor Snape, and spending time with his friends, Harry was desperately busy but just as desperately happy.

Eventually Harry, Ron, Neville, and a grudgingly involved Hermione had a basic potions recipe for the sort of ink that they wanted to create. It was then time to find a safe place to brew so that they could test and tweak their formula. After some careful thought, Harry explored the collapsed tunnel behind the mirror on the fourth floor. The tunnel went far enough back before the collapsed part that Harry felt it was probably a safe place to brew. Assuming that the twins never went back there, of course.

Harry did most of the actual brewing while Ron and Neville prepared ingredients for him. Hermione helpfully stood by and hissed out corrections and criticisms in equal parts.

"No no no!" Hermione exclaimed one night. Her hand shot out to catch Neville's hand before he could add the goldfish scales. "You're doing it wrong!" Neville cringed. Hermione rattled on, oblivious to the effect that her words had on poor Neville. "You add the crushed lacewings first. Here, let me do it!"

And that was how Hermione ended up being a fully committed member of the brewing and testing team. She was still pretty sure that they were going to get expelled if they were caught.

As Halloween drew nearer, Snape grew harsher both during class time and during detentions. Harry tried to be more understanding of Professor Snape's mood than he was the first time around – he really did – but it was hard. They were his parents but he did not know enough to mourn them properly. Professor Snape, however, seemed determined to be miserable enough for the both of them. And even thinking that made Harry feel guilty. Harry also started keeping a sharp look out for the troll.

Four days before Halloween, an owl that did not belong to his solicitor or Mrs. Malfoy dropped a thick letter on his plate. His hands shaking, Harry immediately recognized the letter for what it was – his O.W.L. results.


	6. Chapter 6

I have no right to the Harry Potter characters, copyright, or franchise. This is for fun, not profit. And I swear that I'll finish my PMs! Eventually.

* * *

"What's that?" Ron asked just as Hermione made an excited noise.

"Are those your O.W.L. results?" she asked excitedly. "Go on and open them Harry! I can't wait to see what you scored!"

Harry smiled weakly and pocketed the letter. "I'll just – I'll see you in class."

Then he grabbed a couple of pieces of toast and headed for the nearest unused classroom. He opened his letter and skipped the blathering at the top of the page. It was stupid to be so worked up. He had done very well last time and – Harry exhaled explosively.

Muggle Studies – OO*

Defense Against the Dark Arts – OO*

Charms – O

Care of Magical Creatures – OO*

Astronomy – E

Transfiguration – O

Herbology – E

Potions – E

History of Magic – A

*The awarding of the mark OO indicates that the recipient currently holds the record for highest mark in that examination area.

Harry snorted. With as much hands on practice as he had in those areas, he had an unfair advantage. And apparently learning a little N.E.W.T level coursework went a long way.

"Did well I take it?" drawled a familiar voice from the doorway.

Harry blinked up then grinned in relief at Draco. "Yeah." He held his O.W.L. results out to Draco. "Want to see?"

Draco accepted the paper. He pursed his lips as he read it all then blinked. He grinned stupidly at Harry.

"I'm glad I didn't waste all that time in the library with you!"

Harry laughed. That was probably as close as Draco Malfoy would ever get to congratulating him.

"Yeah. Let's go. I can't be late for Potions."

Draco snickered. "Should've stayed with Slytherin."

Later that day Professor McGonagall kept Harry back after Transfigurations ended.

"I saw that you received the results of your O.W.L. examinations at breakfast this morning" Professor McGonagall began. "Have you had a chance to review them?"

Harry nodded. "Yes Professor."

"Excellent. I wished to discuss the rest of your education here at Hogwarts. While you have the requisite skill and knowledge to enter most of the N.E.W.T. level courses, I feel that it would be a mistake to enroll you in them. There is a great power gap between any eleven-year-old student and any sixteen-year-old student. And I suspect that the gap between your current level of power and the power that you will possess in a few years is more dramatic than one might expect in most students. However, first year classes do not challenge you as your O.W.L results and attempts to master wordless magic indicate." She paused. "How are those studies progressing?"

"I can do most of the spells between first year and the first part of third year wordlessly." Harry made a face. He had thought he would be further along. And he was still on the first year basics with wandless (but worded) magics even with finger wiggles!

Professor McGonagall looked astonished. "Already?"

Harry shrugged. "The theory's the same for all of the subject areas except Potions and Herbology obviously. After I got the hang of it for one class, it was easy to apply it to all of the other magical areas that I know."

"I see. Mr. Potter I am going to suggest a course of independent studies for you. Have you put any thought into what you would like to do after Hogwarts?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Be an Auror I guess. Or play professional quidditch."

Professor McGonagall smiled fondly. "Your father said almost the exact same thing when I asked him that question in his fifth year."

Harry perked up, suddenly interested. "What did my mum say?"

"She wanted to research and develop experimental charms or potions or both."

Harry grimaced. "Urgh. She said that when she was fifteen?"

The professor's smile became softer, more wistful. "Yes. Your mother was the brightest witch of her generation. I have no doubt that she would have done great things had she lived."

A pang of pain and regret surged through Harry's heart. She had given all of those wonderful things up for him without a second thought. Lily Potter did not _have_ to die – she _chose_ to die to save him.

"As I have no doubt that you will do" Professor McGonagall said briskly, breaking the moment. "Let us revisit the idea of a profession for you when you are in your fifth year, Mr. Potter. Instead, let us focus on rounding out your education. If you had to choose your third year elective right now, what would you choose?"

"Can I choose a subject I've got an O.W.L. in?"

"No."

"Arthimacy and Ancient Runes then."

Professor McGonagall's eyebrows arched. "Not Divination?"

Harry shuddered, remembering the prophecies that had ruled his life. And in the end Trelawney had been right. Technically he had died in order to reach that train station.

"I don't like Divination."

A quick smile flickered across Professor McGonagall's lips. It was only then that Harry remembered how strongly she personally disliked divination as both a subject and a belief.

"Let us put aside Arithmacy and Ancient Runes until your third year when you may take them with your peers and sit those O.W.L. exams with them. I would like to work out a program of independent study with you."

Harry blinked. "So I'd sit my N.E.W.T.s with everyone else but I study other stuff until N.E.W.T. years?"

"Theoretically. If the power of your magical core developed quickly enough, you might be able to sit your N.E.W.T.s early. But as of this moment, let's plan for you to take them with your peers. Do you have any preferences in regards to your private studies?"

Harry thought a moment before he realized what a golden opportunity this was.

"I'd like to take Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Snape" he said, trying to sound earnest or at least vaguely trustworthy and definitely not as if he was up to something.

Professor McGonagall shot him a sharp look. Apparently he sounded guilty of something. Or maybe she had not failed to notice his regular detentions with Professor Snape.

"I'm not really a potions sort of person but he grew up with my mum." Harry found himself explaining. "They came from the same village and were best mates for a long time. I figure if I spend enough time with him, eventually he'll see me as Lily Evans' son instead of Potter's brat."

Professor McGonagall's expression softened. "Is Professor Snape aware of your intentions?"

"Sort of. I ask him something about my mum during every detention."

"Has he answered you?"

"Not yet." Harry admitted easily. Thanks to Professor Snape's memories, he knew Severus Snape better than anyone – even Professor Dumbledore – so he felt confident enough to reply, "But he will. I just need enough time with him."

Professor McGonagall bit back a smile. "Of course. So you would like an emphasis on potions and defense. Anything else?"

"No more Muggle Studies or History of Magic. I can study those on my own. Herbology sort of goes with potions, I guess, but I really like Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, and Transfiguration."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "I will certainly take your preferences into consideration when designing your tutorial schedule. Please be aware, Mr. Potter, that a private schedule will require you to dedicate yourself to your academics as seriously as if you were in your N.E.W.T. classes."

Feeling suddenly uneasy, Harry blurted "But I won't have as much homework as I would in N.E.W.T. level classes, right?"

Professor McGonagall's smirk was ever so slightly evil. "We shall see."

* * *

During the Halloween feast Harry made sure that everyone was at the Gryffindor table – especially Hermione – before he got up and headed toward the Slytherin table for dessert. Before Harry left the Gryffindor table Ron mumbled something at him through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"What?"

Ron hastily swallowed. "Where're you going?"

"Dessert with Slytherin. I'll see you later."

Ron scowled. Harry pretended not to notice as he made his across the hall to his nearest Slytherin friend, Theodore Nott.

"Budge over."

Parkinson scowled as Nott budged. Ignoring her Harry plopped himself between her and Nott. Across from Harry, Draco smirked evilly.

"Weasley's having fits."

Harry shrugged and helped himself to a treacle tart. "It shouldn't be a surprise."

Just then Quirrell burst into the hall, shouting "There's a troll in the dungeons!"

And promptly fainted. Harry snorted. '_Faker_.'

Harry stuffed the rest of his treacle tart in his mouth. Nott, Parkinson, and Draco looked revolted.

As Dumbledore ordered the evacuation of the hall, it dawned on Harry that at least a fourth of the school's student population was being _sent into the dungeons with a rampaging troll_. Maybe even half of the school. Harry had never sneaked into Hufflepuff's set but badger sets were usually underground.

As everyone shuffled toward the door, Harry snatched a strawberry tart and caught Ron's eye. He shouted across the Great Hall.

"I'll get a Slytherin prefect to bring me back after they catch the troll! Make sure everyone else makes it back to the tower!"

Ron nodded jerkily and started moving among the first year Gryffindors. Percy scowled at Harry but hustled his housemates toward the door. As the Slytherins headed toward the door, Harry fell in with the first year Slytherins.

"Go back to your own house" Parkinson hissed. "No one wants you here."

"You just wish you'd thought to grab a tart before we left."

Harry leaned in close to Parkinson and tauntingly bit into his tart.

"I hope the troll gets you" she snarled before storming off to walk with Tracy Davis and Daphne Greengrass.

Harry smirked and moved so that he was walking closer to Draco and Nott. One of the fifth-year Slytherin prefects sidled closer to Harry.

"What she said is basically true if tactless" the current fifth-year Slytherin prefect, Jeremiah LeStrange, said stiffly as Harry took another bite. "The entrance to our house is a secret."

"Already know where it is." Harry said around his next bite. "And I've already been in your common room. Didn't sneak into your dorms though."

LeStrange's eyebrows shot up. His expression was clearly disbelieving. Harry very helpfully described the location of the entrance and the layout of the Slytherin common room. On the ground floor the Hufflepuffs split off from the Slytherins. Harry was relieved since that left only a quarter of the school to worry about if the troll put in an appearance. From the quality of his defense professors his first time through Hogwarts, Harry had no illusions as to whom would be fighting the troll off.

LeStrange's gaze slid toward Draco and Nott accusingly.

"They didn't let me in" Harry immediately protested. It was mostly true since at the time Draco had thought he was someone else. "If it makes you feel any better I've also broken into Ravenclaw's Tower. I just need to sneak into Hufflepuff's common room and I'll have a full set."

LeStrange's gaze turned considering. "What's Ravenclaw's Tower like?"

Harry smirked. "Gonna invite me in this time?"

"If you agree not to listen for our password. And no pranking us."

"Me? A prankster?"

"We were all in the Great Hall when you summoned the Headmaster's wand. And rumor has it that was not your first or only prank at Hogwarts."

Harry smirked and bit into his tart again. Chewing gave him an opportunity to think.

"No pranking this time since I'm an invited guest. The rest of the time, you're as vulnerable as any other house." At LeStrange's look, Harry added "Believe me that makes you much safer than anyone in Gryffindor's common room. No mercy there."

"Because your House has the Weasley twins."

"Exactly why there's no mercy in during inner-house prank wars."

LeStrange smirked. "So Ravenclaw's Tower, no password, and no pranking when you're an invited guest. The invited guest thing carries over if you're invited under other circumstances."

"No way." Harry automatically protested, despite his full mouth. Hastily he added, "The deal isn't that sweet. Plus, what if someone needs a contracted pranking? How about I just agree not to tell the Wesley twins where your common room is?"

"No communicating its location to them."

That was easy enough to agree to since Harry knew perfectly well that the entrance to the Slytherin common room was already marked on the Marauder's Map.

"So if you let me into your house's common room, I'll describe Ravenclaw's common room to you, won't memorize your house's password, won't prank anyone during this visit, and won't communicate the location of your common room to the Wesley twins."

"Agreed."

Harry had just finished his tart and the Slytherins were almost to their common room when the troll found them. There was a shriek and someone shouted a stunner even as there was a sickening crunch. As Harry shoved his way toward the disturbance, most of the Slytherins were surging away from it. Harry was stumbling through the last fringe of Slytherins just as the troll was swinging his club toward a frantically casting fifth year's head. At the fifth year boy's feet was a crumpled third year girl.

Even as he shoved through the last of the students, Harry snapped a banishing spell at the troll. The troll flew backwards and into the nearest wall with a crash. Even as the troll staggered to his feet, Harry charmed the troll's club with a quick levitation spell then bashed it down on the troll's head. It was a glancing blow at best.

"Accio unconscious girl!"

The girl slid across the floor until she bumped into Harry's feet. The fifth year hurried after her even as the troll stood up and grabbed his club. Bellowing, the troll charged after the fifth year boy. Harry banished the troll toward another wall. This time Harry did not let up. As soon as the troll slammed into the wall, Harry slashed a cutting curse toward the troll then a bone breaking hex. The cutting curse did not even break the troll's skin. Although the troll grunted like the bone breaker hurt, there was no telltale crunch. As Harry levitated the troll's club again, the troll staggered to his feet again. Harry banished the club into the troll's gut. The troll swayed but kept his feet. His hand clutched at the club's grip.

Shit! Magically resistant species sucked!

Harry poured more power into the next bone breaker he snapped off. The troll bellowed and fell back a step. All right! Ridiculously over powered spells it was!

Harry began to herd the troll away from the Slytherins and back down the side corridor that it had first appeared from. Bone breaker. Banishing charm. Bone breaker.

The troll suddenly lunged toward Harry, his teeth bared and his club swinging.

Harry panicked. Otherwise he never would have used such an upper level spell much less such a unique upper level spell.

Even as he scrambled backwards he shouted, "Sectum sempra!"

Harry pushed nearly every scrap of magical energy he possessed into the spell.

The troll squealed as blood sprayed from a diagonal gash in his chest. He collapsed in a heap.

Harry, rarely one to waste an advantage in a fight, levitated the club and brought it down on the troll's head with a resounding crash. He stood there, panting and staring at an unmoving troll. Harry willed the troll to be unconscious. When the troll did not even twitch, Harry sagged against the nearest wall. No matter how magically mature his power core was at eleven, there was a huge power difference between being eleven and being seventeen. Plus there was still that _something_ that made him more powerful but less magically stable. Whatever it was, it was only just beginning to settle in. A moment longer and Harry realized that he was too tired to stand. Harry sat down and watched the blood puddle slowly expand. Sooner or later someone would find the troll and Harry.

It turned out to be later and Professors Snape and Flitwick. Harry watched them approach through half-lidded eyes.

"Potter" Snape sneered. "Looking for your next interview topic?"

"Hello professors. Is that girl okay?"

"She will be" Flitwick assured Harry briskly as he conjured a huge tarp under the troll. "Are you well Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded and yawned. "Tired." He stood then slid down the wall again. "Really tired."

"Oh dear." With a swish and flick of his wand, Flitwick had the tarp and its passenger levitating. "Perhaps Professor Snape can help you to the infirmary?"

"No!" Harry yelped. "I'll walk!"

Sadly, he could not even stand convincingly.

"It would be more efficient if I secured the troll in an unused dungeon" Snape said, his voice tight.

"Nonsense! The child is practically a member of your House now! And I've already got the troll levitating." And with that the little professor turned to leave them. "I'll see you at the staff debriefing Professor Snape."

Snape viciously jabbed his wand at the puddle of blood. It disappeared, scoured out of existence by his wordless spell.

Then he turned to slash his wand at Harry.

For all that his wand movement was violent the magic that lifted Harry was surprisingly gentle. Without a single word to Harry, Snape spun on his heel and stalked down the hallway. Harry floated in his wake. Although Snape never looked over his shoulder or appeared to check on Harry's progress or wellbeing, Harry never banged into or sideswiped anything either. Harry immediately felt bad as he remembered letting Sirius bash Professor Snape into things and scrape his head on the tunnel's roof. Maybe he should try to make them play nicely with one another this time around?

Harry snorted. Yeah, like that was likely in any lifetime!

* * *

Madam Pomfrey woke Harry at a ridiculously early hour and, her lips tight with her disapproval, sent him back to his tower to change for his court date. Washed, dressed, and snacking on a piece of toast in the entry way, Harry's mind was still foggy with exhaustion. When his solicitor showed up to escort him to the Three Broomsticks from which they would then floo to the hearing in London, she watched him with worried eyes.

"I'm fine" Harry said to preempt doubts or mothering. Ms. Bones had never seemed the mothering type but one could never be too careful. "There was a troll in the school last night."

Understanding eased across her features. "And everyone stayed up late worrying about it."

"No. Well, yes, probably. I beat the troll into unconsciousness when he attacked the group I was with."

There was not much to say after that.

Harry's two greatest accomplishments of the day were his ability to stay awake and his ability to sound mostly coherent on the stand. It certainly helped that his barrister managed to turn his magical exhaustion into a positive thing. Rather than showing weakness or a lack of caution, he spun it so that it showed Harry's quick thinking, maturity, and dedication to protecting those weaker than himself. The fact that the weaker party consisted of all of Slytherin House was apparently neither here nor there.

When Professor Dumbledore's representation argued that the law was antiquated and Harry was a child who needed the guidance of his guardian, the venerable Albus Dumbledore, Harry's barrister argued back that Professor Dumbledore was not Harry Potter's legal guardian. He was never chosen by James and Lily Potter to have any power over their child. And furthermore, Harry's barrister argued, recent events had shown that Professor Dumbledore had a hard enough time protecting the hallways of his school without adding to his workload by insisting on an illegal guardianship over a young man who was more than mature enough to take responsibility for himself and his actions. Harry's maturity was apparently proven by the fact that the trace refused to settle on him or react to his magic.

Throughout the day, Harry was uncomfortably aware of everyone in the galleries staring at him. He was especially aware of a pair of calculating blue eyes. Harry found, as the day wore on, that he was grudgingly touched by the continuous presence of Narcissa Malfoy in the viewers' gallery. At least she was a familiar face.

By the end of the day Harry was declared a legal adult with all the right, privileges, and responsibilities thereof. His first act of legal adulthood was to thank his legal representation profusely and schedule another appointment with his solicitor. His second act was to thank Narcissa Malfoy for her support but beg off of dinner with her due to magical exhaustion.

"That's right" Mrs. Malfoy said as if she just suddenly remembered. "Draco said that you fought off the troll that attacked Slytherin House."

She had probably been sitting in the courtroom all day to speak to him about that. The woman was ruthless and relentless where Draco was concerned.

"I just happened to be in the right place at the right time." Harry grinned. "Slytherin House has the best desserts."

One elegantly shaped eyebrow arched. "You chose to live in Gryffindor Tower, Harry. The only way you happened to be in the dungeons at the right time was because you chose to be there."

Harry yawned as he shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Narcissa Malfoy smiled. "Perhaps you are not so ill-suited for Gryffindor."

Harry grinned. "I warned you that I'd do well in either Gryffindor or Slytherin." He yawned again. "I'm sorry but –"

"Yes yes" Narcissa Malfoy waved his apologies off. "We'll sup together another time, cousin."

Then she kissed Harry's cheek and helped him sneak out of the courtroom without running into any of the reporters outside of the courtroom's main entrance.

His third act was to buy himself a dinner and room at the Three Broomsticks. A few quick warning and concealing charms like he, Ron, and Hermione used to set up around their campsites, and Harry James Potter was unconscious for the rest of the night.

Harry awoke the next afternoon and dragged himself out of bed and into the communal bathroom. Thirty minutes later he was dressed, full of a late lunch, and on his way to Gringotts. At this point in the timeline there were very few pictures of him in public circulation so Harry felt safe simply charming his hair from black to red, charming his eyes blue, and putting on a hat. The reporters camped in the Leaky Cauldron's main room ignored him completely. Harry bought breakfast from one of the stands in Diagon Alley and made his way to Gringotts.

This time he ignored the tellers like Narcissa Malfoy did and made his way along the side of the bank to the offices. A goblin moved to greet him. Harry bowed his head respectfully.

"My name is Harry Potter. I reached my majority yesterday. I would like to speak with my accounts manager."

The goblin bared his teeth in an unpleasant grin. "I will speak with Splitaxe for you."

Harry decided to take it as a positive omen that his vault manager had such a fierce name. He could fiercely split apart Dumbledore's lies for Harry, after all.

"Thank you."

The goblin hesitated a moment then nodded and moved to knock at the appropriate office. He disappeared inside for several moments then came out and waved Harry into the office. If Harry had thought his account supervisor, Bogfoot, was old then Splitaxe was positively ancient. There was also an ancient axe, perfectly proportioned for a goblin, mounted on the wall behind his desk. Bogfoot stood at attention behind the even older goblin's chair.

"Mr. Potter." The ancient goblin glared at him. "What do you want?"

Harry decided to pretend that the old goblin had said something pleasant and keep going. In terms of his previous dealings with goblins, it was positively friendly. Maybe that was as nice as goblins got?

"I was emancipated yesterday. Today I'm an adult. I want whatever blood verifications you normally do. I want to tighten security on my vault so that random people who steal my keys 'for my own good' can't get into them. I want to be able to get into my vaults with or without my keys and I want a full investigation into Albus Dumbledore's expenditures and removals of assets when I was a minor. I want my cloak returned to me. I want every single one of my parents letters returned to me. I want to trace every asset use he authorized during that time. And I want someone to make sure the old man didn't help himself to anything else of mine. I want a copy of my parents' wills." Harry narrowed his eyes in thought. "And if there are any hereditary positions or responsibilities within the Potter name, title, or clan I want to know about them as well as what's expected of me and what actions were last taken regarding them, especially if I was a minor when they were taken." Harry thought a moment then snapped his fingers. "Oh, and my estate affairs will no longer be handled by Mr. March. He seems more interested in Dumbledore's best interests than my own. I would like a complete accounting of my assets and I would like a copy sent to my new solicitor, Ms. Helena Bones."

The two old goblins squinted at Harry suspiciously.

"These actions will put you squarely opposite Albus Dumbledore" Bogfoot said cautiously.

"Good." Harry said firmly. "It's about time someone stood up to him."

Because after a lot of reflection, Harry had decided that Hogwarts was at least partially responsible for how he and Tom Riddle had turned out. Maybe he would tell this Tom that before he killed him.

The goblins exchanged a long look.

"Voldemort doesn't count." Harry immediately protested. "He dragged everyone into his disagreement with the old man. I just want to be free and own what's mine."

Both goblins snorted. They looked at him as if he were a silly little fool. Considering their relative ages and the entirety of goblin history, they may have had a point.

"Before we continue" Splitaxe said, "are you satisfied with your account manager?"

Harry blinked. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be? He's honest and blunt which is good because I'm a bit thick."

Splitaxe and Bogfoot exchanged hard looks.

"You had some concerns regarding the management of your account the last time we spoke" Bogfoot said carefully.

Harry blinked. His accusations of theft and mismanagement rang in his ears. Harry hunched his shoulders guiltily. Even he could tell from his one glance at his vault's ledger with Narcissa Malfoy that he was wealthier now than when his parents had first put that money aside for him despite Dumbledore's questionable withdrawals.

"I apologize" Harry said carefully as he focused the entirety of his attention on Bogfoot. "I was in shock. It never occurred to me that Dumbledore would help himself to my person, property, or assets. Despite that you have somehow made my assets grow. I'm sorry that I blamed the wrong person."

Bogfoot bared his teeth at Harry in a sneer worthy of Snape. Harry's brief acquaintance with Griphook allowed Harry to interpret it as a good sign.

"You are a young and stupid wizard. It was inevitable."

Harry smiled. "Thank you."

So the goblins had him nick his finger and dribble his blood onto a piece of special parchment while they snarled at younger goblins in gobbledegook. While the younger goblins scampered in and out of the office, Harry watched his blood swirl around on the parchment until his blood began to form letters then words.

Evans Vault – Heir

Potter Estate – Heir

Gryffindor Estate – Heir

Ravenclaw Estate – Heir

Hufflepuff Estate – Heir

Riddle Vault – Heir

Gaunt Estate – Heir

Slytherin Estate – Heir

Harry blinked. He stabbed a finger at the last six estates he was heir to.

"How did I become heir to those? I don't think I'm related to those families."

"We will pull the appropriate wills" Splitaxe assured Harry with a much put upon look.

While they pulled the paperwork Harry went with Bogfoot to explore his new vaults and key all of his vaults – new and old – to his blood. The Riddle vault was on the same level as the Evans vault which was the one that he had always visited. The Potter and Gaunt Estates were much lower, well past the dragon. The two founders' estates, however, had vaults down in the very depths of the bank. They were so low down they even had single digit vault numbers. Harry peeked into each vault – there was no way that he was going to touch anything until he had several months to get past any traps and to seriously consider anything that he found – but only helped himself to more gold from his original vault.

When they returned to Splitaxe's office, the elderly goblin had five giant stacks of parchment in front of him. He tapped one clawed finger gently against the first stack.

"The Potter Estate." Then he tapped that same finger against each stack in turn. "The Gaunt Estate and Will. The Gryffindor Estate and Will. The Riddle Will. The Slytherin Estate and Will. The Ravenclaw Estate and Will. The Hufflepuff Estate and Will."

The ancient goblin leveled a piercing look at Harry across the desk as Bogfoot stuffed both sets of papers into a leather satchel.

"The remaining matters that you have commissioned us to undertake for you will require time. We will keep you appraised of our findings."

Harry nodded, thanked the goblins, and headed into muggle London for lunch. After lunch Harry bought two dozen white roses and called for the Knight Bus. Luckily the conductor was a blond girl only a few years older than Harry rather than Stan. Her driver was a young brunette girl who was somehow even more terrifying behind the wheel that Ernie was.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" Harry asked the blond girl since they seemed to be the only ones on the bus at the moment.

She laughed. "I didn't get a Hogwarts letter. I didn't get any letter to anywhere."

"So where did you go to school?"

She waved a hand at him. "Me mum and dad taught me everything I know."

"Did they go to Hogwarts?"

"No. No one in me family ever got a letter."

Harry frowned. "But you have a wand and magic. I thought Hogwarts was open to everyone."

A slightly bitter expression flittered across her features. "Hogwarts is open to everyone who has the means or the talent to earn a scholarship maybe. It's not open to average people like my people."

"It's supposed to be open to everyone! That was the whole point of building Hogwarts!"

She smiled at him as the Knight Bus skidded to a halt. "Godric's Hollow's cemetery sir."

"Th- Thanks. For everything, I mean."

Harry hopped off the bus. When the lurid bus careened around a corner and out of sight, Harry let himself into the cemetery. His feet remembered where his parents lay. In short order Harry found himself standing in front of their graves. For a long time he simply stood there and stared.

"I brought you flowers this time" Harry murmured at last as he knelt to place them on front of the marker. "I know that this wasn't what I was supposed to do but… it seems like the right thing to do. I thought it was the right thing to do. I'm going to do my best to make this work. And don't worry about Sirius or Remus or Professor Snape. This time around I'll look after them. I promise."

He knelt there for a long time. When he stood, he made his way out of the cemetery and into the village. He visited the monument that was once his home then haled the Knight Bus again.

It was time to go back to Hogwarts.


	7. Chapter 7

Several reviewers have mentioned that there were only two Founders' vaults in Gringotts. That's intentional and will probably matter later. A couple of you have noted Gaunt/Evans/Riddle/Founders inheritances were odd. I actually have a plan for that! You can see the beginning of it in Harry's discussion with the Sorting Hat.

I don't own or have any rights to the Harry Potter copyright, franchise, or characters. This is for fun, not profit!

* * *

Harry was eating dessert with the Slytherins, this time seated between Jeremiah LeStrange and Theo Nott, when Professor McGonagall welcomed Harry back to school with a new schedule.

"Mr. Potter" she said crisply as she thrust the schedule at him. "You seem to have become lost between dinner and dessert."

Harry smiled his most charming smile as he took the slip of parchment. Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes at him.

"Can't be helped Professor. Slytherin has all the best desserts."

And he helped himself to another two or three raspberry tarts.

When the stern professor had returned to the teacher's table, Harry dared to glance down at his new academic schedule.

Harry had double Defense Against the Dark Arts on Monday mornings with Professor Snape at the exact same time that he normally had it with the other Gryffindors and both a Charms and Herbology class after lunch. He had double Charms Tuesday mornings and both a Care of Magical Creatures and a Potions class in the afternoon. Harry had double Potions Wednesday mornings and both a Care of Magical Creatures and a Transfigurations classes in the afternoon. Thursday morning was double Herbology, that afternoon was double Transfigurations, and that night was double astronomy. Friday morning was free but he had History of Magic before lunch and in the afternoon both a Defense Against the Dark Arts class, also scheduled for the exact same time as Quirrell's class, and a Care of Magical Creatures class.

Harry's new schedule left him with plenty of breaks before lunch (except on Fridays) and lots of time in the afternoon and evening which would make Oliver Wood happy. His study groups, however, were either going to have to be moved or do without him. The schedule was a good one but it was a bit daunting to realize that he would mostly be studying on his own. The idea of academics without Hermione was, he realized, unsettling.

"How come you have a new schedule?" Nott asked him. The boy frowned. "And why don't you have potions with our class anymore?"

Harry stuffed his new timetable into a pocket of his robes.

"I passed my O.W.L.s but my magical core isn't quite powerful enough for most N.E.W.T. level coursework yet" Harry admitted since sooner or later someone at the Daily Prophet would look at the trial transcript and decide to publish that tidbit. The Slytherins on either side of him choked as Harry added, "So I'm going to study other stuff for a bit then take my N.E.W.T.s with the rest of you lot."

"Those two weeks you skipped out on study sessions" Nott said suddenly. "The ones where Draco made us bring you dinner in the library. You were revising for your O.W.L.s?"

"Yeah. Needed them for some legal stuff."

"What were your two electives?" LeStrange asked.

"Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies. I'm going to take Ancient Runes and Arithmacy with everyone else though."

"Good. We'll study Arithmacy together."

"What were O.W.L.s like?" LeStrange demanded.

As a fifth year facing his own O.W.L.s at the end of the year, he was probably a lot more interested in the content of the tests than Nott was so Harry described the exams for each of the core subject areas and Care of Magical Creatures. Harry wound down with, "And you'll get extra points on your defense exam if you can do a corporeal Patronus Charm. If you need some help with that I'll definitely help you revise."

LeStrange nodded, looking thoughtful. "Can you already do a corporeal Patronus Charm?"

"'Course. That's how I know about the extra credit. Defense is my strongest subject."

From several seats over, Draco Malfoy snorted. "He's being modest. Harry holds the record for the highest defense score in Hogwarts' history."

Someone passed Nancy Moon a heavy looking cream colored envelope. She glanced at it then passed it to Draco.

"When did you see his scores?" Nott demanded.

Draco glanced at the envelope. "The morning he got them. An A in History of Magic and he holds the record in Defense, Muggles Studies, and Care of Magical Creatures. Exceeds Expectations and Outstandings on everything else."

Harry felt his face flush. "Draco!"

Draco shrugged and passed the envelope to LeStrange. "It's nothing to be ashamed of Harry. Maybe you should've been in Ravenclaw."

LeStrange glanced at the envelope and nodded.

Harry shook his head. "Too boring. I like doing things."

LeStrange's eyes gleamed with interest. "Yeah? Then I'll definitely want to study with you. Defense is my weakest subject."

He passed Harry the envelope. On the outside, in neat script, it said 'Harry J. Potter.'

Harry snorted. "That because Professor Dumbledore hires losers to teach it."

Harry glanced up to the teachers' table. Professors Snape and McGonagall were glaring at him – probably for the same reason, ironically enough – but Professor Dumbledore was absent. Harry grinned as he opened his letter. Inside were two heavy cream-colored cards.

One was from Abigail Larkins and the other from Dagwood Larkins. They both thanked him quite nicely for saving their lives.

Harry waved the cards at the boys on either side of him.

"Who are they?"

LeStrange snorted. "The unconscious girl you summoned away from the troll and her brother."

"Oh. Them." Harry frowned. "They didn't have to say anything."

"Only if they were in Gryffindor" Nott sneered.

As grudgingly tolerant as most of Slytherin was becoming of Harry's presence at their table in the Great Hall, Professor Snape was filled with as much fire and vitriol toward Harry as ever. He made this clear with his sneer Wednesday morning during their first double Potions session.

"I see you are capitalizing on your celebrity status to extort special treatment already, Mr. Potter. No doubt you believe that five years of brownnosing and barely satisfactory efforts will somehow entitle you to a place in my N.E.W.T. level potions class. Well you are wrong Mr. Potter."

Within five minutes Harry found himself wishing that Horace Slughorn had been a little more interested in teaching and a little less interested in networking. He was dismayed to realize that aside from what he had gleaned from The Half-Blood Prince he really had learned nothing in sixth year potions class. Professor Snape was brutal and impatient but at least Harry learned something in his classes. Still, it was a relief when the double lesson was finally over and Harry was allowed to escape to loiter around the Great Hall before lunch. His Dead Flesh Eating potion was the wrong color and texture and he owed Snape two feet on the potion at their next class on Tuesday when he would brew it again.

Since Harry, Ron, and Hermione had not fought the troll and ended up friends, it was time to create a group bond by other means. It was time to implement the prank. All of the houses had sentries and Harry lacked an invisibility cloak to get past them. The plan was to lightly coat all of the taps in the shared bathrooms, all of the hand towel dispensers, and all of the doorknobs to all of the used rooms in the castle with the magical solution that they had brewed. They also planned to add it to Filch's cleaning products.

Without an invisibility cloak, the plan would be difficult. Without either an invisibility cloak or his father's map, the plan was impossible. Plus, he had to get the map from Fred and George _before_ Sirius started showing up on it.

"Oi! Fred! George!" Harry called casually down the Gryffindor table. "I need a word with you after lunch!"

The two redheads blinked then nodded.

"Why do we need them?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "I need to ask them something about quidditch practice."

As soon as Harry dragged the twins down the nearest hidden corridor, they turned on him.

"What'cha need –"

"– Ickle Harrikins?"

"I want the Marauders' Map."

Both twins instantly went on the defensive.

"We don't know –"

" – what you're talking about."

"Honestly."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The twins grinned.

"How'd you find out about that?" asked George.

"It's my dad's."

They laughed.

"Geroff."

"Pull the other, Harry!"

"Honestly. My dad was Prongs. He left notes about it in my family's vault."

Both of their clever faces lit up.

"Do you know all of the geniuses of –"

"– magical mischief and mayhem who –"

"– created the Marauders' Map?"

Harry nodded. "I need my dad's map."

Their identical faces fell into identically unhappy looks.

"Harry, it's not that we don't have a heart –"

" – because we do! We feel badly for you –"

" – but we need it for our own mischief."

"It's the only thing of my parents that I've been able to track down!" Harry said a bit desperately. "Dumbledore has my father's invisibility cloak and my aunt destroyed everything of my mother's. I don't even have a single picture of them!"

The twins swapped dejected looks.

"I wouldn't mind sharing" Harry said quickly. "I just want to know that I own something that belonged to my parents."

"Sharing?"

"We could pass it back and forth when we need to sneak around. And then our pranks wouldn't overlap."

The twins shared another look.

"And I'll show you a room that my dad didn't find."

_That_ got their attention.

"A room that isn't –"

"– on the map? Impossible!"

Harry grinned slyly. "Technically there are two. But I'll show you the more useful one."

"Show us both!" They said together.

"One. And I'll tell you how Professor Snape and Dumbledore always know when you've done something."

A quick shared look and two firm nods.

"Deal!" They said in stereo.

Fred handed Harry the map.

So Harry showed them the gloriously useful Room of Requirement. When they were in the Room, which currently looked an awful lot like a pub, and sipping butterbeers Harry said, "They're both legilimens. Don't look them in the eye, especially when you're lying. If you look them in the eye, they'll go through your memories and you won't even feel it."

"Legilimens? Even we know that's pretty rare" Fred said skeptically.

"I know. That's why no one ever suspects it. The next time you're caught but there's not a lot of proof, try lying to them without meeting their eyes. You'll have a better chance of getting away with it."

Harry glanced at his wristwatch then stood. "I've got to get to Care of Magical Creatures."

The twins nodded and raised their butterbeers to Harry.

"Cheers mate!"

"Don't get caught!"

That night Harry, Neville, Ron and Hermione snuck through the corridors with the aid of the Marauders' Map.

"This is a terrible idea!" Hermione hissed, even as she carefully painted a tap with the invisible ink. "I don't know how you talked me into this!"

"You invited yourself" Neville reminded Hermione then shrank back from her glare.

"I can't believe you got something like that off of Fred and George!" Ron said for the fourth time. "They never share. Did your dad really make it?"

"Yes."

"He was brilliant, wasn't he? Way better than even Fred and George!"

Harry grinned. "Yeah."

By morning their mission was accomplished. By mid-afternoon there were smears of multicolored ink everywhere. Inked footprints wandered through the corridors, inked fingerprints scattered across walls and desks and tables. Ink smears meandered along the bottom of portraits and along the banisters. Madam Pince had declared a 'literary emergency' and closed the library for the books' protection. Hermione was taking that poorly. Filch was also taking it poorly. No matter how much he scrubbed and mopped and snarled at the students, the ink never faded. In fact, there were more ink marks in places that he had cleaned than anywhere else!

The student population overall was, of course, delighted even though their robes and clothes, skin and hair were all smeared with ink. Ron was ecstatic. Even Neville looked pleased with their efforts. Harry made sure to take lots of pictures of everyone.

"Harry!" Fred exclaimed as he wrote a list of rude words on the wall with one blue fingertip. He was grinning behind a purple mustache. "Excellent prank!"

George, drawing a quidditch game involving stick figures with one purple fingertip, cheerfully added, "Well worth our investment!"

He had a blue beard.

"I don't know what you're talking about" Harry laughed as he ran orange fingertips through his hair.

Lee Jordan looked up from writing an Ode to Gryffindor on one wall of the corridor in pink ink. It looked surprisingly like a dirty limerick involving quidditch.

"Right. Our mistake." And grinned so widely that Harry could see all of his teeth.

Draco was not nearly so amused by the prank.

"Look at my clothes!" He wailed. "My hair! My face!"

Harry squinted at Draco. Aside from stripes of sunshine yellow ink in his hair, some smudges of it on the tip of his pointed chin and some smudged red fingerprints on his left hand, Draco was pristine. Harry, despite academically knowing that he was a few years older than Draco, still felt an overwhelming urge to smear Draco with his orange inked fingertips. It would be especially awesome if he could somehow draw a beard and glasses on Draco.

Harry very carefully put his hands behind his back and grinned. "Draco, you're the cleanest person I've seen today."

Draco glared. "I have ink all over me!"

Faster than even Harry could register, Harry's fingertip darted out to poke Malfoy's cheek.

Draco yelped and stumbled backwards. His hands automatically rose to paw at his face but stopped a hairsbreadth away. There, on Draco's high, pointy cheek, was a single blue smudge.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "You're going to pay for that Potter!"

The n he lunged at Harry, fingers spread wide. The next few minutes were filled with a fearsome duel in which both boys tried to smear as much ink on the other person as they could. Afterwards they collapsed in a sweaty, ink-stained heap and laughed until Harry's sides hurt.

"It'll come off, right Harry?"

"I expect it probably will."

"Probably? If you've stained my face for life, I'll kill you!"

Harry laughed. "How should I know how long this ink supposed to last?"

Draco glared at him. "I'm not blind or stupid. Prat. I know what you've been reading."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'll remember that for next time."

"_Harry_!"

"If I were forced to guess – and I'm not saying that I know anything about this prank – I'd think that it will eventually wear off. It's not a tattoo. Provided that you don't keep touching whatever got you inky in the first place. Or anything else that might make you inky again."

"Eventually? Potter! I can't go around looking like this!"

"Why not? It's fun!"

"I'm a _Malfoy_! We don't look like this!"

And that might actually explain most of Draco's life in either timeline – it was a Malfoy thing.

Harry shrugged. "So use a few charms."

It was a completely worthless piece of advice since they would not learn those charms until the middle of fifth year. Harry had trouble imagining the older Slytherins helping the younger ones.

"To get the marks off?"

"To hide them."

Draco hopped to his feet and with a final incensed glare stormed off. Harry grinned at his retreating back.

"See you at dinner!"

Draco was not at dinner. None of the Slytherins below Sixth year were seen in the Great Hall. Apparently they either had pressing House business or were protesting their less than pristine appearance. Interestingly all of the Slytherins that attended dinner in the Great Hall were using charms to conceal their ink marks.

Of course the professors looked into who might be responsible for the prank. Although Fred and George were their original suspects, the twins eventually persuaded the professors that they were not the ones responsible much to their open disappointment. It was their disappointment more than anything else that persuaded the professors that the infamous Weasley twins were not responsible. But if not them then who?

Harry left Gryffindor Tower early the next morning. He made his way down to the bare stretch of wall that led to the Slytherin Common Room and loitered across from it until the first Slytherin seventh years came out. Harry pushed off of the wall behind him.

"Hey, can you ask Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, and Daphne Greengrass to come out?"

They eyed him suspiciously but one of them shrugged and called back into the common room.

"Hey! You! Nott is it? That first year Gryffindor you pal around with is out here!" Harry grinned. "He wants a word with you and Malfoy and Greengrass!"

Then the seventh years ignored him entirely and went to breakfast. The entire exchange took place without a single shout or a leery glare. It was… nice.

Things weren't yet tense enough in this timeline where Slytherins were immediately suspicious of the admittedly very real possibility of bodily harm from anyone not in Slytherin House. Plus, the rest of the Snake House was used to seeing him with the first year Slytherins.

The three first years he had requested dragged out through the entrance to the Slytherin common room with Crabbe and Goyle in tow. Harry bit back a sigh. It was hard to do nice things for Crabbe if only because he knew that Crabbe would kill Malfoy, who was his _friend_, if given half a chance. The fact that Crabbe was eleven and had yet to do anything terribly unpleasant much less evil was unimportant when it came to how Harry felt about the Slytherin. He could sort of forgive Malfoy, Goyle, Nott and Greengrass and put aside the things they had not yet done if only because none of them had ever been truly evil in the future. But it seemed that there was no way that he could forgive or put aside Crabbe's as yet undone future actions.

All five Slytherins glared at Harry.

"What?" Nott demanded shortly.

Harry grinned. Draco's face was still streaked from their earlier rough housing, Daphne's face was all bright green, and everyone else had an interesting collection of their own marks.

Harry smirked. "Be nice or I won't do the charms for you."

As one, every Slytherin in that hallway narrowed his or her eyes at Harry.

"You know how to charm this off?" Draco demanded in outraged tones. "And you let us walk around looking like this?"

"I told you, the marks won't come off. They have to wear off. But I do know how to hide them."

"Then why do you look like that?" Daphne Greengrass asked suspiciously.

Harry shrugged. "S'more fun. I didn't know everyone in Slytherin House was so bloody serious. Good thing I didn't sort myself into your house, eh?" None of the Slytherins looked even vaguely amused. Harry sighed. "Just line up already."

Several minutes of flicking, swishing, and jabbing later and the five Slytherins looked like they always had. It had been difficult to resist the temptation to give Crabbe a pale purple snorkack horn in the middle of his forehead though.

Luna would have appreciated that.

"How long will this last?" Nott asked as he looked at his pale, unblemished arms.

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. I expect until lunch at least."

"Thank you" Daphne said sincerely. Her expression turned smug. "Professor Dumbledore said that all of Slytherin House has to attend meals. I'll be the only clean girl in our year – except for maybe Hermione."

Harry laughed. "Hermione complains a lot but I don't think she really minds the ink."

Daphne looked even happier when she heard that.

Draco squinted at Harry suspiciously. "The fifth years said they didn't know the charms for this."

Harry smirked. "I like to be prepared." He tried not to remember moments when he had been utterly unprepared – in a graveyard, in the Department of Mysteries, on the Astronomy Tower, and all of the last year of the war.

"Harry?" Daphne asked, her expression worried.

Harry startled and tried to remember to smile. "I'm hungry! Let's get to breakfast!"

Draco, Daphne, and Nott looked at him oddly but all five Slytherins followed him out of the dungeons.

At breakfast, the talk was all about who could have inked all of the Houses.

"Bet it's a graduating seventh year" Seamus said over breakfast. Across the room Harry's Slytherin friends – acquaintances – whatevers were basking in the glares of Lavender, Parvati, and all of Slytherins under sixth year. "No one else would want all four Houses after him. Only a seventh year wouldn't care."

"I expect that we probably have a new poltergeist" Percy sniffed when Harry asked him at lunch. "I expect Professor Dumbledore will sort it out and clean us all up."

"Maybe it was the Patil twins" Angelina said cheerfully that night in the common room. Harry had just gotten back from sneaking out to get his first batch of pictures developed. He made sure to get duplicates. Angelina pretended to squint at Parvati suspiciously. "You know what they say about twins."

"No. What?"

She cut her eyes meaningfully to where two redheads were bent over a piece of parchment with a dark-haired boy. The three were whispering furiously.

Harry grinned. "Ah. I see."

Two days after the prank it was Saturday morning and the school was still buzzing with excitement of the multicolored student body. Rumor had it that Filch had sworn eternal vengeance on the culprits – provided he ever found out who they were. Ron and Neville had wide, goofy grins and even Hermione seemed particularly pleased with herself. No one had seen hide nor hair of the bulk of the younger Slytherins outside of classes or meals.

"Hey Ron" Harry said after swallowing a mouthful of sausage. "Can I borrow Scabbers?"

Ron blinked. His mouth full of eggs, Ron asked "You actually want to touch him?"

"Yeah. I need a couple of whiskers for an experimental potion" Harry lied. "Just something I'm looking into… for later."

Ron grinned and fished his fat pet out of a pocket to pass him over the table to Harry. Scabbers lazily popped one eye open but otherwise didn't protest the move. Harry gingerly took the animagus and slid him into a pocket.

"It won't hurt him or anything, right?" Ron asked anxiously.

In Harry's pocket Wormtail squirmed.

"No. Not at all."

Ron looked relieved. Wormtail settled down again.

When the twins finished breakfast, Harry hurriedly grabbed a couple pieces of bacon and another piece of toast.

"Wait up!"

"Harry! You have to take your work seriously! You won't be able to get it all done on time now that you have detention all the time if you don't start working on it right away!"

"Er…yeah. Don't worry Hermione. I'll get some of it done today. I just – um – need a quick word with the twins. About quidditch!"

"Quidditch!"

"How about we study together tonight? I'll meet you in the commons room around nine."

"Harry – "

"Bye Hermione!"

Harry hustled the twins out of the Great Hall. He passed the map off to Fred and tried to ignore the way that they were snickering at him.

"Mind helping me get out through the witch?"

The twins grinned identically evil grins.

"Whatever it is don't forget –"

" – that it's our turn!"

Harry nodded. "I won't cheat."

Half an hour later Harry James Potter snuck out of Honeydukes and strolled into the Three Broomsticks. There was not a single smudge of ink to be seen on either his face or clothes.


	8. Chapter 8

I, like most people, am inspired by thoughtful reviews. A couple of you mentioned that no one has thought to question Harry's sudden mad, magical skills. I submit two thoughts on this topic: a.) Wizards aren't generally logical and b.) no one has asked _Harry_. Yet.

I don't own the rights to Harry Potter's characters, copyright, or franchise. This is done for fun, not profit.

* * *

From The Three Broomsticks Harry used the floo system to get to the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley. Getting to his solicitor's chambers with Wormtail a fat, trusting lump in his pocket was the easy part. Getting past the secretary was nearly impossible.

"But it's an emergency!" Harry argued. "Please just tell her that I'm here."

"I'm sorry but Ms. Bones has specifically stated that today is her preparation day. She is not to be disturbed this – hey! Don't wave your wand around here!"

"Expecto Patronum!"

A moment later Prongs leapt out of Harry's wand. He darted through the door and into Ms. Bones' office. The secretary glared at Harry. A moment later, Ms. Bones emerged from her office.

"Who – Mr. Potter! Your hearing is next week."

Harry shrugged his shoulders apologetically. "I know. I just needed to give you an important piece of information. I could only sneak out of the school today."

Ms. Bones slowly nodded. "Please follow me Mr. Potter."

In Ms. Bones' office, Harry transfigured one of her lovely glass paperweights into a tiny steel cage – just big enough for a rat. Mrs. Bones, seated behind her desk, arched an eyebrow at Harry.

Harry fished Scabbers out of his pocket and quickly shoved him into the cage. Then, while holding the door shut, he tapped the top of the cage twice so that the door simply became part of the bars. There was no way out for dear old Peter.

"Mr. Potter, I feel that I must inquire as to the reasons behind your visit. Surely it isn't to dazzle me with your skills in transfiguration."

Harry grinned. "That's the animagus Peter Pettigrew. He betrayed my parents, killed twelve people, and framed Sirius Black for everything."

Ms. Bones sucked in a sharp breath. In the cage, Scabbers went wild. He frantically threw himself against the sides of the cage and clawed at the bars. Harry leaned down to favor Pettigrew with a vicious grin.

"I found him for you" Harry said, his attention once again fixed firmly on his solicitor. "Now I expect you to make things right."

* * *

Ms. Bones had been practicing law for over fifty years but it was safe to say that Harry James Potter was her most difficult client. Ever. Even at their first meeting she could tell that he was a child that seemed to possess a Hufflepuff's loyalty, a Slytherin's cunning and ruthlessness, and a Gryffindor's bluntness and determination to succeed despite all obstacles – including the most powerful wizard in the world. And the boy wasn't an idiot either. He was young Susan's age but he was not much of a child.

Frankly, she would not be surprised if he was the next Albus Dumbledore.

At first, his issues had seemed fairly straightforward. While emancipations based solely on the state of one's magic were rare to the point of nonexistence in today's world, it was still a viable law on the books. Given his personality, magical power, and miserable background as well as the circumstances surrounding Albus Dumbledore's guardianship, it was a difficult but not an impossible request. Suing for the return of Mr. Potter's possessions was actually a much easier case provided that Harry was either considered of age or Professor Dumbledore was not Mr. Potter's legal guardian. Although someone – probably the professor in question – had made it nearly impossible to track down the Potters' wills that objective was still within the realm of possibility.

Mr. Potter's third objective – the freedom of Sirius Black – was the one that she had tagged as being impossible. Despite what Harry claimed, Sirius Black was guilty. But Ms. Bones took her professional obligations seriously so she had made discrete inquiries. Nothing promising had come of them. Then Mr. Potter had disrupted her preparations for a different client, plopped a rat that he claimed was the transformed Peter Pettigrew on her desk, and demanded that she 'make things right.' Honestly.

"_That_ is Peter Pettigrew?"

"Petrificus Totalis."

Mr. Potter moved the frozen little body around until she could clearly see that one of its front paws was missing a toe.

"The reason that the largest part of Peter Pettigrew anyone found was his finger was because Pettigrew cut his finger off before he changed into a rat and escaped into the sewers. See? This rat is missing a toe because he's Pettigrew and he's missing a finger."

"Mr. Potter –"

"If you summoned the Aurors and got them to do that charm that makes animagus change back into their human selves, then you'd see that I'm right. And if they made Pettigrew take Veritaserum then everyone would know that Sirius wasn't my parents' Secret Keeper."

Well. He certainly made it sound easy.

"Mr. Potter the law states – "

"I don't care what the law states" the boy snapped as the light in his eyes shifted from reasonable if somewhat sly to pure, reckless determination. At least now she had an inkling of why the boy had not become a Slytherin. "I hired you to make this all work. Your _job_ is to get Sirius' name cleared. You said you were having difficulties so I borrowed my best mate's pet and brought the traitor to you. Now find a way to _make_ this work with the law."

"Your spells –"

"I can hold them for awhile."

Ms. Bones nodded. "Please remain here while I consult my library and one of my partners. He specializes in criminal matters. If you need anything please feel free to ask Ms. Hargrieves for it."

The boy made an impatient face but nodded.

* * *

"Draco! I won't tolerate this!" Pansy cried out as she stormed up to the table where Draco was playing exploding snap with the other first year boys. Around them the common room stilled and the noise died down. No self-respecting Slytherin would miss this obvious opportunity to collect information, even on first years.

Draco blinked at his childhood friend. "Won't tolerate what, Pansy?"

"I can't stand looking like this! Make your cousin charm me too!"

"Pansy, I haven't made him do anything. Harry does what he wants to do."

That sort of stung to admit. But it was also sort of thrilling – Harry helped him because he _wanted_ to, not because Draco or his father offered him anything. The only souring bit was that he wanted to help Theodore and Daphne too.

"Well make him _want _to help me!"

"How can I put in a good word for you when you go out of your way to be nasty to him?"

"That's different! He has no business always hanging around with us! He's a Gryffindork!"

Draco shot her a disgusted look. "He isn't studying with us because he needs our help with the material."

"So what? What does that have to do with anything?"

"So you're an idiot! He's the most powerful wizard of our generation and you went out of your way to make him dislike you! And now he doesn't want to help you!"

Actually, Harry did not seem to want to help Crabbe who was properly deferential and grateful to him. If he could barely bring himself to charm Crabbe on a regular basis there was no way he was going to charm Pansy who was frequently and openly hostile towards him. The only way Pansy was going to look anything approaching normal was if she found something to offer Harry in return for the charms.

"But you already said that he wants to help you." Pansy pouted at Draco. "Tell him that if he helps me it'll be like he's helping you. He'll believe that. He's just a Gryffindork."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Pansy, you're going to have to find something that he wants to trade with him for the charms."

"But Draco" she whined "why –"

"He charmed us out of goodwill. _We_ didn't deliberately annoy him! You annoyed him and you have no good will with him."

"But Draco –"

"He's my cousin, not my house elf." Draco said firmly. After calling his parents through the fire to save Harry from Dumbledore there was no way to avoid acknowledging him as such. "He's smart and powerful and he knows more magic than all of us combined. And unlike most of the school, he doesn't hate Slytherin House. He probably would've charmed you and Zabini if you both hadn't gone out of your way to make sure that he knows that you don't like him. Well congratulations. You got your point across. Now go find something Harry wants so that he'll want to make you look even semi-normal."

Pansy gaped at him. "But Draco! I want –"

"Go away Pansy."

Pansy stormed off. Draco finished that round of exploding snap but the fun had gone out of the game. Normally it felt good to have everyone watching him and talking about him because he knew that they were envious. But he was uncertain whether public knowledge of Harry's possible friendship would help him or hurt him within his own House. Now the attention just felt awkward. When they finished the game he excused himself and went down the hall to the boys' dormitory. Once there he settled at his desk and started writing another letter to his parents.

Dear Mum (and Dad),

This week I did all of my spells perfectly! I got Slytherin fourteen points! Harry isn't studying with us anymore since he has different classes from the rest of the first years. He still helps me with my Charms and Defense homework. (Harry got an A in History of Magic and Es and above on his other O.W.L.s. Harry holds the record in Care of Magical Creatures, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Muggle Studies. He says it's unfair for him to hold the Muggle Studies one.)

I already told you about how Harry's Gryffindors pranked the entire school. The ink is still everywhere and Mr. Filch is still having fits!

I still can't get the ink off. (Sorry Dad. Those suggestions didn't work. Although one spell interacted with Harry's prank to make the ink move.) No one below sixth year knows the charms to hide the ink marks so almost everyone below sixth year looks as dumb as the rest of the school. Harry is still doing the appearance charms on me and a couple other first years for nothing. Not that he used those charms on himself. (When charming us, Harry sort of looks like he'd rather hex Crabbe senseless. I still haven't figured out why Harry doesn't like Crabbe.)

Harry missed dinner tonight in the Great Hall. I wonder where he was?

Pansy wants me to make Harry charm her too. She doesn't understand that he just did it because he wanted to. (I sort of wish he didn't want to help Theodore or Daphne though! He's my cousin! And my friend!) She thinks he's an idiot just because he's in Gryffindor. She's always rude and mean to him. And she won't go find something Harry wants to exchange for the charms. (Not that I can think of anything he wants.)

Pansy made a big scene in the common room. I sort of admitted in the common room that Harry does what he does because he wants to. I even sort of admitted that we are friends. Then things got weird in there. You don't think everyone will look down on me for that, do you?

I've got to go. Theodore is calling me.

Love,

Draco.

* * *

Harry was not entirely certain what was going on. Currently he was sitting across from Madam Bones, Kingsley Shaklebolt and an Auror that he had never met named Oliver Stoat. His solicitor was sitting next to him and the cage with the petrified Peter Pettigrew was in the center of the table between them. The Bones women kept firing legal jargon back and forth between them and the Aurors seemed to be able to follow well enough. Harry, however, kept his attention on Wormtail. Now was not the time to become careless or sloppy.

Someone's wand tip entered Harry's line of sight.

"What're you doing?" He demanded sharply as he knocked the unfamiliar wand away. Harry glanced up to see Oliver Stoat holding to the other end of the wand.

"Verifying your claim."

Harry narrowed his eyes. There was a bit too much smug condescension in his tone of voice. A quick glance around the table proved that everyone else was also humoring him. Even his solicitor seemed to have difficulty believing how serious he was about this rat.

Of course, he was eleven and the world still thought Voldemort was dead.

Harry took a deep, calming breath.

He tapped the conference table they were sitting at twice and visualized what he wanted. The magic flowed from him, down his wand, and into the wooden table. Just like with the paperweight, the table slowly reformed itself into a larger cage around the smaller one that held the petrified rat. Then he visualized the cage turning from wood to steel. That change was actually a bit quicker. There was no door on this cage. Unfortunately the bars were large and far enough apart that a rat could easily wriggle through them. Harry had the power but he lacked the skill necessary to create his ideal cage for Peter Pettigrew.

Harry slipped the tip of his wand through the bars. He roughly tapped the rat's cage. Ms. Bones' paperweight reformed next to the rat.

"Alright. Now do it."

"Take off the… whatever spell that is" Kingsley said, speaking to Harry for the first time.

"Not a chance." At Kingsley's frown, Harry added "The bars aren't close enough together."

Stoat sighed but no one said anything else about his paranoia concerning the rat.

Kingsley and Stoat performed the same charm that Sirius and Remus did third year with more or less the same result. There was a flash of light then a small, pudgy man with two hands, nine digits, and watery eyes stood propped against the bars. He was still petrified.

The adults gasped.

Harry rolled his eyes. '_And this is why I will always apologize rather than ask for permission_.'

When Harry turned his attention to the petrified man in the cage, he knew that his smile was decidedly unpleasant.

"So which one of you brought the Veritaserum?"

Ten minutes later, Peter was still undosed and petrified and Harry was seriously considering hexing Oliver Stoat into the next week. Literally. In the previous timeline no one had ever seemed particularly concerned about using Veritaserum on Harry at the drop of a hat. Which is why he was completely and utterly outraged when Madam Bones started making noises about 'retaining representation for Mr. Pettigrew' and isolating Pettigrew 'until his system is clean of any potions' and 'reading Mr. Pettigrew his legal rights concerning the administration and use of Veritaserum.'

"Rubbish!" Harry snapped. "He's my parents' betrayer and Voldemort's right hand man! I'm not taking my spell off of him!"

"Mr. Potter, the Wizarding World has laws which we must all abide by –" began Madam Bones.

"I didn't see anyone abiding by the law when Sirius Black went to Azkaban for ten years without a trial!"

Madam Bones had enough decency to flinch. "In certain cases a trial is erroneously perceived as unnecessary because –"

"Even Bellatrix LeStrange got a trial and she was caught red-handed torturing the Longbottoms!"

"What happened to Sirius Black wasn't right or fair" Kingsley Shacklebolt interrupted. "Sirius Black should have had a trial like all of the other alleged Death Eaters. But if Peter Pettigrew really killed your parents, do you want someone to be able to come along later and overturn his conviction for failing to follow the proper procedures?"

Harry glared at Kingsley Shaklebolt, wishing with every fiber of his being that he could hex the Auror. Because the absolutely worst thing was that he was pretty sure that Shaklebolt was right.

"If he gets away I'm holding you personally responsible, Auror Shaklebolt" Harry gritted out as he negligently waved his wand at Pettigrew and silently canceled the spell. Pettigrew slumped against the bars of his cage.

"This is all a terrible misunderstanding!" he quavered "I –"

"Silencio!"

A jab of his wand later and Peter was groveling in complete and utter silence.

Kingsley was good enough not to ask Harry what an underage wizard might possibly threaten an adult Auror with. Instead he said, "I'll see what can be done about making Sirius Black more comfortable while we figure this out."

"Perhaps you could pass this along to him" Mrs. Bones said as she fished a familiar envelope out of her desk. "Harry asked me to get it to him but I have found it almost impossible to get the proper permits necessary to send personal mail to Azkaban."

Kingsley Shacklebolt took the fat envelope suspiciously. "What's in it?"

"Just pictures of my first week at Hogwarts. Oh!" Harry fished another handful of pictures out of his pocket. He waved them at Shacklebolt. "D'you mind?"

Shacklebolt passed the envelope over to Harry. Harry quickly unsealed the envelope, stuffed the newest pictures in at the back, and resealed the envelope. He started to hand the envelope back but paused.

"Maybe I should write him a letter so that he'll know why I'm sending him these."

It was hard sometimes to remember that he was the only one who already knew everyone.

His solicitor passed him a piece of parchment, a quill, and black ink. While she fished out a large mailing envelope, Harry quickly scratched out a letter. There was no way in Hell that he was letting these people see him agonize over his letter to Sirius. And he already knew Sirius. He didn't have to try to impress his godfather. And he had nothing to be nervous about. Really.

Harry prayed for a little divine intervention.

Dear Sirius,

The pictures are from my first day at Hogwarts and the first big prank of the school year. The professors haven't pinned down the guilty parties so that's all I'm going to write about that.

Love,

Your godson – Harry Potter

P.S. I know you didn't kill my mum and dad!

There. Nothing that the Aurors or Professor Dumbledore would find helpful. (Shacklebolt was a good auror. He would definitely read Harry's letter and look at the pictures before passing Sirius his mail. And Professor Dumbledore was so nosey that he would probably find a way to get a copy of the letter at least.) Hopefully Sirius would like it. Harry stuffed his letter and the envelope of pictures into the mailer that his solicitor had already addressed. As he sealed the mailer, Harry glanced at the clock on his solicitor's wall as he passed the mailer back to Shacklebolt.

"I'll get these to him tonight" the man promised.

"Thanks!" Harry said cheerfully as he hopped out of his seat. "Oh look at the time! I have to get going if I'm going to get to the Prophet before they run the evening edition!"

"The Prophet!" Oliver Stoat squawked.

Harry grinned at the outraged adults. "Of course. If I don't get this on the front page, the Minister of Magic might be tempted just to shove everything under the carpet again. Or Sirius might have an unfortunate accident in Azkaban. I'm going to make sure that it's in everyone's best interests to do the right thing."

With that Harry headed for the door. As he left, he heard Kingsley murmur "Slytherin, right?"

"Gryffindor, actually" Mrs. Bones said.

"That's the most Slytherin Gryffindor that I've ever met" Madam Bones sniffed. There was an edge of approval lacing her tone though.

Harry grinned.

Twenty minutes later, Harry was sitting across the table from Rita Skeeter in a private room in the Leaky Cauldron. She was eyeing him like a piece of meat, her Quick Quotes Quill ready and hovering over a piece of parchment.

"You surprised me by asking for this interview, Mr. Potter. Let's get down to business shall we? The Wizarding World wants to know where you've been for the last ten years. Where have you been Mr. Potter?"

'His eyes filled with tears' Harry read upside down as the quill scratched at the parchment 'and his voice cracked as he whispered, "It's just been so hard since my parents died. I couldn't bear to be around any reminders of them or what happened so I ran away to the mug –"

Harry snatched the parchment out from under the quill. He tossed it into the nearby bin. With a quick word he set the contents of the bin on fire.

"Let's cut to the chase" Harry said as a glaring Rita Skeeter fished out another piece of parchment. "I know that you're an illegal animagus. A beetle to be exact."

Skeeter paused. "I don't know what you're talking about."

So Harry described her animagus form in intimate detail. By the time he was done, Rita Skeeter's hands were trembling.

"What do you want?" she hissed.

"I picked you for this story because I thought we could help each other. You're not a bad writer when you decide to write something other than a pack of lies. I want you to write the truth and nothing but the truth for me. I want the Wizarding World on my side but I won't lie to it. And in return, I'll make sure to offer you first crack at my stories. If you do a good job, I'll make sure that they're exclusives. If you try to take advantage of me or try to screw me over, I'll make sure that DMLE knows all about your other form. If I remember correctly, a good friend once told me that the punishment for being an illegal animagus is a mandatory two year imprisonment in Azkaban. Exceptions are made only for truly extenuating circumstances – which I assure you that you won't have."

Rita Skeeter grudgingly nodded. She snatched her Quick Quotes Quill out of the air and fished a regular quill and ink out of her purse.

"Fine" she snarled, with ill concealed resentment. "What's _your_ story?"

"It's two in one really. Sirius Black was never my parents' Secret Keeper but that never came out because the Ministry has deliberately avoided giving him the trial that he is required to receive by law. Secondly, Peter Pettigrew was my parents' Secret Keeper and I captured him and turned him in to the Aurors about half an hour ago."

Skeeter's eyes were huge. As Harry watched her shock gave way to excitement.

"Start at the beginning with Sirius Black!" she ordered. "I want you to tell me _everything_!"

* * *

Harry slipped back into Hogwarts through the statue, the charms reversed so that all of his fading ink marks were visible. When he crawled through the portrait hole into the common room Ron, Hermione, and Neville were studying at a table near the stairway to the boys' dormitory. Ron leapt to his feet. Neville and Hermione looked up.

"Where've you been mate?"

"Hi Harry!"

"You're late!" Hermione hissed.

Harry grinned. When he was close enough he sat down and whispered.

"I've been to see my solicitor."

"Harry!" Hermione yelped. "You snuck off of school grounds! You could get expelled!"

"You snuck off of school grounds?" Ron demanded in scandalized tones. "And you didn't take us with you?"

"It wasn't for fun! I needed to _see my solicitor_!"

"A-About what?" Neville asked then flushed. "If you can tell us that is."

Harry flicked his wand so that the quartet was surrounded by a privacy charm. Then he whispered to them about the change in his parents' Secret Keeper and Sirius' imprisonment without a trial and what he had spent the day doing. They made all the appropriate noises in all of the right places – Hermione in particular was outraged that the entire Wizarding World could deliberately skip straight to sentencing – until Harry revealed Scabbers to be Peter Pettigrew.

Neville looked vaguely ill and Hermione looked thoughtful but Ron was quite obviously livid.

"Not Scabbers!" Ron said, his mouth twisting with mulish denial. "He's just a rat!"

"Ron, he's been with your family for ten years. Not even magical rats live more than four or five years. Regular rats like Scabbers should only live about two years at the most. Scabbers wasn't normal in any sense of the word."

"Don't you think my parents would have noticed if anything were off about Scabbers?"

Actually, that was something Harry had wondered about a lot in the original timeline, especially during that summer after third year. The magical world was dangerous so why would two pureblooded magical people like Mr. and Mrs. Weasley fail to keep an eye on their danger-prone brood?

"I don't think your parents had time" Harry said carefully. "Bill and Charlie must've been a handful, especially since Charlie seems to share Hagrid definition of 'cute.' The twins would've been little monsters. And you keep saying nasty things about Ginny's Bat Bogie Hex. I just don't think your parents had the time to really think about exactly how long Scabbers had been with your family."

Ron glared. "I let that rat sleep in my bed! There's no way I would've let some full grown wizard chew on my sheets!"

And with that Ron slammed his chair back and stormed off to the dormitory.

"Honestly!" Hermione huffed. "It's logical when you have all of the facts!"

"Don't worry about Ron" Neville said comfortingly. "He's just shocked. And probably feeling a bit sick." Neville shivered. "I'd feel sick too if I'd kept a murderer as a pet!"

Harry nodded and tried to look cheered up. Mostly he felt ill. They had only just started to be friends – there had been no troll or dragon or Philosopher's Stone or Chamber of Secrets or flying car to cement their friendship yet. What if Ron never forgave Harry?

Sunday morning Ron was glaring at Hermione's copy of the Daily Prophet when Harry made his way into the Great Hall for breakfast. It was much noisier than usual. On the front page of the Daily Prophet was a picture of a middle-aged, crying Peter Pettigrew next to a picture of a young, madly laughing Sirius Black.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted as soon as her eyes landed on Harry. She was practically vibrating with excitement – even her hair seemed frizzier than usual. "Sirius Black escaped Azkaban!"


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks for the reviews! I have no right to the Harry Potter characters, franchise, or copyright. This is for fun, not profit.

* * *

Harry laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed.

"Harry!" Hermione squawked as Harry collapsed onto the bench next to her. "This is serious!"

"No! _He's Sirius_!" Harry gasped the tired old joke even as he wiped tears – they were from laughing so hard, damn it, _and nothing else_ – and gasped for breath.

Hermione frowned. "Harry! He's an incredibly powerful and possibly evil wizard!" She waved the newspaper under Harry's nose. "They think he's coming after _you_ Harry!"

Harry was still laughing because, thank God, Sirius was _really alive_ and actually okay and that was completely different from just sort of academically knowing that Sirius existed somewhere. He was going to see Sirius soon! How much different would it be to actually see Sirius again?

"See? It says here that Sirius Black got a mailer from an unknown party then started talking in his sleep about _you_ being at Hogwarts!"

"A troll, the best prank war ever, and an escape from Azkaban!" Ron enthused messily around a mouthful of eggs to Hermione. "Hogwarts is so much more exciting than the Burrow!"

"Mmmm, can I see the paper?" Harry asked Ron as he plopped into a seat next to the redhead.

Ron ignored him.

Harry sighed. As he helped his plate, he directed his attention to an anxious-looking Hermione.

"Hermione did Rita Skeeter print my interview?"

"In the morning and evening editions!" she said, her expression obviously brightening. She straightened her shoulders and leaned across the table toward Harry. "She said that since he wasn't supposed to still be waiting for a trial, who could blame him for getting impatient and escaping?"

"He's lucky he got out when he did" Harry said darkly as he swallowed a mouthful of cereal. "Fudge would've had him Kissed rather than suffering any sort of scandal."

His three friends gasped. Ron's ears reddened and he ducked behind his newspaper again. Neville and Hermione just stared at Harry, horrified.

"He wouldn't!" Hermione gasped. "That's wrong!"

"Why not? If you don't care about how wrong it is to deny a man a trial that he's entitled to by law then why would you care about breaking a few laws and having that same man Kissed before he can say anything embarrassing about you?"

Neville shivered. He looked completely willing to believe Harry about Fudge.

'_He knows the Wizarding World can be senselessly cruel_' Harry thought as he watched Hermione's eyes narrow. '_Then again __**his**__ relatives tossed him out of a window just to see if he had any magic._'

"It isn't right. People just don't _do_ things like that."

"Believe what you will, Hermione."

From that moment on like everyone else Harry's attention was split between the numerous Sirius Black sightings and looking forward to the beginning of the quidditch season. Harry was nearly vibrating with his anticipation. Maybe Sirius would make it for his first game!

Harry took out a subscription in the Daily Prophet purely to keep track of the Sirius Black sightings. He religiously read it cover to cover. Of course there were the strange crackpot sightings but Harry knew his godfather well enough to spot some of the true sightings for what they were. Slowly but steadily Sirius Black was making his way towards Hogwarts!

Unfortunately, Harry was not the only one to arrive at that conclusion. Just like in the original timeline, Fudge sent the Dementors to guard the school. Harry tried to avoid the edges of the school grounds and tried to force himself to believe that Sirius was too clever to be caught by them. His subconscious, however, was not so easily persuaded. Harry's regular nightmares began to melt into new ones of a Kissed Barty Crouch Jr. who then turned into a Kissed Sirius Black.

It was the Tuesday before Harry's second run at his first quidditch game when Ron next spoke with Harry. He was frowning at yet another picture of a crying Peter Pettigrew on the cover of the Daily Prophet.

"The next time I'm sharing a bed with a murderous animagus, I expect you to tell me _before_ you drag him off to the Aurors."

Harry blinked. "Alright."

Ron lowered the paper to glare at Harry. "I'm serious Harry. I expect to know what's going on during our next adventure – especially if it involves my smalls or my bed sheets or my pets or my anything."

Harry grinned. "'Course."

Sadly, Tuesday was also the day that Dumbledore delivered a stern warning over lunch to the unknown ink pranksters about tampering with Mr. Filch's cleaning supplies. Fred and George looked by turns impressed and wicked. After that it was only a matter of days before everyone's ink marks started fading. Everyone was still covered in fading ink marks the afternoon that the house elves served suspiciously familiar crème pies.

At the Gryffindor table Harry grinned and took a huge bite like everyone else in the hall. And like everyone else in the hall, he promptly turned into a canary.

He made a couple of circuits of the room before changing back into Harry just over the Slytherin table. Harry dropped onto a bench next to Theodore Nott who was spitting out feathers. Harry laughed and slung an arm around his Slytherin – whatever.

"That was brilliant!"

The canary crème had undone Harry's charm work on Theodore. Now all of his ink marks were fully visible in all of their fading glory. Once again, Harry wondered if maybe Theo had gotten into an ink smearing war of some sort with someone like Harry and Draco had.

Theodore grinned brightly at Harry. "Not one of yours I take it?"

"No! This is bloody brilliant! Gonna take another bite?"

"No. Once was enough. Why?"

Harry gestured at Theo's face. "It undid my charm work. Want a touch up?"

"Please."

A few charms later, Harry blinked at LeStrange. The fifth year scowled at Harry. It pulled at his fading red mustache.

"Haven't you worked it out yet?"

"Obviously not."

Harry shrugged and fished his wand out again. "Should've just asked then."

A few more charms then Harry reached for a spoon that Theodore swore was unused.

"Tell Draco and the others that I'll wait for them by the main staircase after lunch until I have to go to Care of Magical Creatures."

"You mean tell Draco and Daphne."

Harry flashed Theo a grin but said nothing either way.

"Harry" purred Pansy as she leaned in close to him. "Harry would you charm me too?"

"No."

Pansy drew back, insulted. "Why not?"

"You've made it clear that we're not friends."

And with that Harry took a second bite of canary crème pie. That time, he managed to turn back into himself right next to a much younger Cedric Diggory.

"Hello!" Cedric grinned.

"Harry Potter" Harry said while offering Cedric his right hand and plucking a cookie up with the other.

"Cedric Diggory."

Harry grinned. Cedric did not know it yet but that was going to be the beginning of a long lasting friendship. Hufflepuffs were supposed to be loyal friends after all. And Harry had a proven track record for being loyal to his friends.

"You're the Hufflepuff seeker. Fourth year, right?"

"Right."

And that was all it took to open a conversation about quidditch with Cedric Diggory.

At dinner that night everyone was looking at the food a bit nervously when a flurry of owls flew into the Great Hall with the evening edition of the Daily Prophet.

'First-Year Boy Who Lived Holds O.W.L.s Records!'

Harry groaned as the students at the other tables began to whisper and point.

'_So much for laying low and pretending to be normal!_'

On the day of his first match Harry was so excited that he could barely choke down the piece of toast that Hermione foisted off on him. When he changed he remembered to charm his glasses to stay on his face then put his phoenix feather wand into the pocket of his quidditch robes and zipped the pocket up. With Dark wizards, Dementors, and the spirit of Voldemort on the prowl it was best to always have your wand within reach. Constant vigilance and all that. The only reason the Elder Wand was still in the second drawer of Harry's trunk was because he could not quite shake the feeling that bringing the Elder Wand to a quidditch game at Hogwarts was overkill.

The crowd was excited and happy – not like fifth or sixth year – and the 'Potter for President' banner was just as amazing as the first time he saw it.

Harry was drifting over the game, looking for the snitch, when he spotted a giant black shape crouched under the Gryffindor stands. Harry straightened and drifted a bit closer to the Gryffindor stands. It was a grim! Sirius! Harry grinned widely and his heart began to pound. Sirius Black was alive and well and watching his first game! This was absolutely perfect!

Ten minutes later Flint slammed into Harry to block him from catching the snitch. Over the Gryffindors' shouts, Harry could hear the barks of a dog. Torn between smiling and scowling, Harry made a particular hand gesture at Flint then backed off to go back to searching for the snitch. As the ache in his shoulder faded, Harry thought he saw a flash of gold fluttering a hundred meters below him and slightly to his left.

When he moved to chase it, Harry's broom gave a sudden and alarming wrench under him. He yelped and grabbed onto his broom handle with both hands just as it began to wrench and buck.

"Shit" Harry moaned through his clenched teeth. "How did I forget about this?"

He could see the twins circling below him, their expressions strained and anxious. At least someone planned to catch him if he fell. Why hadn't Hermione knocked over Quirrell yet?

Harry was hanging upside down when a horribly familiar sense of cold began to creep over him, numbing his fingers and tightening his heart in his chest. At the back of his mind he heard the screams of a woman and a voice hissing "Kill the spare."

"Oh no" Harry groaned, even as his grip started to slip. He tried to tighten his grip with his legs and his left hand. With his right hand he scrabbled at the wand in the pocket of his quidditch robes.

A sudden jerk and Harry's left hand lost his grip entirely. Hanging upside down, his blood pounding in his head and his head filling with his worst memories, Harry began to despair.

'_What about Voldemort_' Harry thought fuzzily '_If I die here, who will kill him?_'

Which was a sort of rallying thought since he wanted to fulfill his destiny; mostly so that no one else had to suffer through it. But living long enough to kill someone was no way to live at all.

Under him the broom listed. It was still not under his control but it was no longer actively trying to throw him off either.

Happy thoughts…

'_Everyone's alive! I'm friends with Ron and Hermione again! But no one is the same… If I die I've sacrificed everything only to fail everyone at the very beginning!_'

Harry used both hands to fumble his wand out of his robes. It was slippery in his grip. It took two hands to hold onto it. Black spots began to eat away at the blurred colors that made up his vision.

'_Cedric isn't dead yet. And Sirius is alive and here and counting on me!_'

"Expecto Patronum!"

A huge silver stag darted out of Harry's wand tip. Immediately the hopelessness gripping him receded. Harry went limp with relief. Instantly the broom wrenched forwards then backwards and this time Harry slid off of it entirely. Wand clutched in one hand, Harry fell toward the pitch head first and shouting. Something bashed into his face and somehow ended up in his mouth. Whatever it was fluttered against the inside of his cheeks.

Oh God…maybe it would be better if he were unconscious for this… not even a cushioning charm could –

"Urk!"

Something grabbed one ankle and a moment later something grabbed his other one. Harry jerked to an abrupt and painful halt. But he was alive. Wondrously, gloriously alive.

"Alright there Harry?" Fred grunted.

Harry choked on the… whatever was fluttering in his mouth. He suddenly and desperately hoped it was the snitch and not a small bird or a giant bug. Harry carefully spat the small, fluttering object into his empty hand. He curled his fingers around a glint of gold.

"I caught the snitch!"

Both twins laughed their voices tight but cheerful, as they slowly flew their brooms down toward the pitch. Hopefully someone would think to grab his broom. Underneath him Prongs was prancing around the quidditch pitch somehow managing to look fierce and arrogant at the same time. It was probably the way that he tossed his antlers. There was not a single Dementor in sight and Harry's mum was finally quiet.

"Way to keep your mind on the game" George teased.

"Wood'll be pleased that you're as crazy as he is."

"Am not!" Harry protested instinctively.

The twins just laughed at him as they carefully settled him on the pitch then went after his broom. Harry sat up. Across the pitch his patronus ranged outward, forcing the Dementors to clump together as he and a half-dozen other patroni herded them out of the stadium all together. Gone was their usual glide and in its place was a staggering, shuffling retreat.

When one Dementor tried to move past Prongs, the stag gored it with his antlers. The Dementor screamed soundlessly, a high pitched shrieked that echoed through Harry's head. It hurt almost as much as when Snape rifled through his brain. It was the best feeling Harry had ever felt in the presence of a Dementor. Harry smiled widely as Prongs shook that particular Dementor off of his antlers then menaced another with them. As the Dementors skittered away from Prongs, warmth and feeling finally began to burn through his nerve endings.

A quick glance at the area under the Gryffindor stands showed the dog to be gone. Harry wilted. _Of course_ Sirius was gone. There was no way he would stick around with the Dementors hanging about. But what if the Dementors had caught him before he got away?

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked as she, Ron, Neville, and even Hagrid rushed onto the pitch. Her face flushed, Hermione hugged him then shoved him at Ron. Ron, his face far too pale, hugged him. After that Ron shoved Harry at Neville, who was still shaking and his eyes were huge. Neville hugged him before Hagrid literally swept him off of his feet into a nearly bone-crushing hug. Harry had never been hugged so often in such a short amount of time in the previous timeline.

Fred and George must have told the others that he had the snitch because his team mauled him next. Wood was so happy that he was nearly crying. Harry had a strong suspicion that Wood's happiness was directly linked to winning quidditch and nothing else. Fred and George hugged him purely as an excuse to ruffle his hair, mock him, and knock him about. It was actually really comforting. Suddenly there were Gryffindor everywhere hugging each other and shouting as if there had never been Dementors on the pitch.

The party that night was mind blowing. It was the first time that Gryffindor had won against Slytherin since Charlie Weasley had left school. Harry enjoyed it but some small part of him was stuck with the nagging worry: What if Sirius had not escaped the Dementors this time?

The next morning, after a sleepless night and before breakfast, Harry made his way to Professor Snape's office. His heart pounding wildly, Harry knocked on the door.

"Go away!" snarled Professor Snape. "It's Sunday!"

Harry kept knocking.

"Enter!"

Harry straightened his shoulders and marched into the office of a man who literally could not stand the sight of him. Currently, that man was hunched over essays, his quill tipped in the dreaded red ink scratching incomprehensible comments. It was probably best for all parties that even Hermione could decipher only one in four comments.

"Potter" Professor Snape sneered when he caught sight of his visitor. "What do you want?"

Harry took a deep steadying breath. If someone had told him a year ago that he would _thank Severus Snape_ for anything, he would have laughed then hexed that guy's balls off.

How things changed.

Gryffindor courage marshaled, Harry took another deep steadying breath then blurted "Thank you sir."

Professor Snape stilled. Even his face and fingers stilled. One hand still held his quill and the other was curled around the rolled top of a scroll. The look in his glittering black eyes changed from thinly veiled loathing to something else. Harry had a long, emotionally charged relationship with Severus Snape. They had spied on each other, screamed at each other, frightened each other, and driven each other half-mad. Their long history was filled with their highs, lows, and worst possible moments. But in Harry's experience with Professor Snape this was a completely new expression and a completely unknown emotion.

"For what?"

There was no emotion in Snape's voice. It made Harry nervous. Harry's eyes darted about. There were still nasty potions ingredients on the walls. There were still no rugs on the floor or paintings on the wall. Snape was still staring at him. Harry took another deep breath, focused on how grateful he was not to be dead, and carefully met Severus Snape's eyes.

"You saved me from Professor Quirrell even though I'm pretty sure that you hate me. So thank you."

The lightest of mental touches skimmed across Harry's mind. The fact that Harry knew it and could feel the intrusion was a huge step in his Occlumency skills. At least he now knew when people were casually violating his mind. Professor Snape merely touched on Harry's gratitude then withdrew.

'_He wanted to make sure that I meant it_' Harry realized. '_Did he think this was a prank?_'

"I don't know what you're talk about" Professor Snape said at last. But a lot of the bite and vitriol that he usually directed towards Harry had gone out of his tone.

Harry smiled. "Yes sir. And I'm also very sorry sir."

Harry watched Professor Snape's eyes narrow. This time he was careful not to catch the professor's eye.

"For what?"

"Yesterday – at the match – someone may have set you on fire."

"Who was it?"

"That person thought you were cursing my broom."

"Who – was – it?"

"I'm sorry that person set you on fire. It's just that you're a lot more frightening than Quirrell and –"

"Potter! The name!"

"That person was only trying to save my life!"

"Now!"

Harry flinched in spite of himself. He focused his eyes on Professor Snape's large nose. "No sir."

Professor Snape's voice became low and ominous. "You will tell me the name or you will have detention for the rest of the year."

Harry was silent.

"Very well Mr. Potter. I will see you Monday night at the usual time."

"Yes sir."

Harry left, slamming the door behind himself.

'_That miserable greasy git! I apologized! For something that Hermione did! And there was no way that I set Snape on fire! Snape __**knows**__ that too so why –_'

Harry drew in a deep shuddering breath. He tried to find that calm place in his mind, the one that he had worked so long and so hard at Occlumency to create. He was still toweringly angry over Snape's unfairness but it was more distant from his thoughts. His feelings were still there and still required dealing with but at least he could think around them.

Snape was being unfair. They both knew that. And they both knew that neither Dumbledore nor any other professor would protect Harry from it. Well fine. Harry could make this work. He could! Because Professor Snape from the previous timeline had already given Harry everything Harry needed to deal with that miserable bastard. He was James Potter's son… but he was Lily Evans' son too.

All of the other first years seemed to be at breakfast by the time Harry arrived. Harry plopped himself between Hermione and Neville.

"Where were you?" Ron demanded through a mouthful of eggs.

"Getting detention for the rest of the year from Snape" Harry said nonchalantly.

"What?"

Word spread quickly up and down the Gryffindor table.

"He can't do that!" Oliver Wood shouted, outrage written in every line of his body. "If you have detention every weeknight, you'll miss all of our quidditch practices!"

"I'm sorry."

"You're _sorry_? What did you do anyway?"

"Erm… I apologized to him."

Everyone gaped at Harry. After a moment, Oliver firmed his jaw.

"I'm going to protest this! I'm going straight to Professor Dumbledore with this outrage! Snape isn't going to get away with sabotaging our quidditch season!" He grabbed Harry by the shoulders. "Don't worry Harry! If worse comes to worse, we'll move practices to our free periods and the weekends!"

Harry could literally feel the chasers' glares burning into him.

"Erm… thanks Oliver. But it's probably not necessary for everyone to practice with me on the weekends. Maybe – maybe just you and me and – erm – maybe the twins sometimes."

"Nonsense Harry! We're a team! We're in this together!"

And with that Oliver stormed off.

"Apologized, eh?" Fred said as the twins moved to sit on either side of Harry. "I solemnly swear –"

" – that we'll never apologize to the greasy git if –"

" – that's the sort of moral reinforcement we'll get."

Under the table, George pressed the Marauders' Map into Harry's hand. Harry quietly pocketed the map with no one any the wiser. Harry waited until Ron and Hermione were busy arguing about something stupid and Neville was busy with Dean and Seamus before he slipped out of the Great Hall and made his way down to the kitchens. Once there he had the house elves prepare a picnic.

"How many people are going on Master Harry's picnic?" asked one of the more elderly house elves, Wibbly. Wibbly always seemed to be one of the first to greet Harry in both timelines.

"Eh, I'm not sure. But we'll be super hungry so you should give me as much food as you'd like. Just make sure that it's stuff I can lightening and shrinking charms on."

"Oh yes, Master Harry!"

And so it began. "Master Harry will need ham and cheese sandwiches."

"And quiche!"

"And tarts!"

"And chicken!"

"And pumpkin juice!"

And on and on it went until Harry remembered the original timeline when even a saner Sirius had looked like more of an animal than a man as he tore into the chicken.

Harry said, "I think we'll be lucky to eat all of that. We'll need lots of napkins, silverware, plates, cups, and a couple of good thick blankets to sit on."

Then Harry shrank the hampers of food and the heaps of blankets, pocketed everything, thanked the elves until they blushed, and left. He used the Marauder's Map and several secret passageways to avoid everyone who might stop him as he made his way to the hag statue. Once he was in Hogsmeade he wandered toward the Shrieking Shack until he was out of sight of the village then cut sharply through the trees and into the forest surrounding the wizarding village. From there he headed in the general direction of the cave that Harry vaguely remembered Sirius holing up in during fourth year. It took a few hours but Harry eventually found what he believed was the right path.

Hot under all of his layers, Harry trudged up into the hills. His eyes were cast downward, focused completely on his feet and the rough path. Ahead of him there was suddenly a low, menacing snarl.

Harry stopped still and looked up. His stomach suddenly seemed to have fallen down to his knees and his heart was pounding. Ahead of him on the path was a snarling grim.

The grim was too skinny, his coat was matted, and his pale blue eyes were only vaguely sane but he was definitely and without a doubt Padfoot. Sirius. Harry's knees were suddenly too rubbery to hold him up. He sat down where he was standing and just stared at the dog. For some reason he had trouble catching a breath.

"Padfoot" he whispered.

One hand reached for the mostly mad dog. Padfoot crouched and backed away, his lips curling back even farther over his truly impressive set of teeth.

Harry's heart hurt. This was much worse than Ginny looking at him like he belonged in a zoo or Ron and Hermione not knowing that they were best friends. This was –

"_Sirius_."

The grim bolted.

For several wasted moments Harry watched the bushes the grim had retreated into, waiting for a man to reappear.

'_He's not coming back_' Harry slowly realized. '_He's gone!_'

Harry staggered to his feet. "Padfoot!" he shouted as he threw himself onto the bushes the dog had disappeared into. "Padfoot! Come back!"

Twigs tore at his face and hands, he twisted his ankles on roots, and his heart was pounding so hard that there was no way he could possibly hear a dog running through te underbrush. Harry staggered onward but eventually even he had to admit that the dog was gone.

Harry kept running.

Eventually he was deep within the forbidden forest and quite lost.

'_Shit! How many times have I passed that hagish stump? Three times? Fou –_'

"Aaagh!" Harry screamed and flailed as something huge slammed into his back. Whatever it was, it was heavy, furry, and smelled like wet dog. Teeth snapped next to Harry's right ear.

Harry went very very still.

'_God, I'm an idiot_' Harry thought bitterly, his cheek pressed into a pile of moldering leaves. '_I knew that he broke out over a picture of Scabbers the first time. Never bothered to think about __**why**__ did I? I just sent him more pictures of Scabbers the second time around. I was so busy worrying about Fudge getting Sirius Kissed to get rid of the evidence, it never occurred to me to worry about Sirius being a danger to anyone else. Especially me._'

For the first time it occurred to him that in both versions of the timeline, Sirius had broken out of Azkaban to have his vengeance on Peter not to save Harry.

Raising him was, at best, an afterthought to Sirius.

There was a _pop_ then the weight on his back redistributed. A rough hand groped its way through his right pocket before closing around his wand.

Pain, starting at the base of his skull, stabbed through his head.

Darkness.


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks for the reviews! I'm a bit pressed for time so this update is short. To answer a few questions:

1 - Why is Narcissa being nice/helpful? Narcissa gave a mostly true reason to Harry, a partially true one to Draco, and Lucius hints at two. There's one more but I doubt she'll ever say it aloud. Her beliefs regarding Voldemort's current conditions matter.

2 - Why is Harry worried about Severus? There are several. Look back at Harry's interactions with Severus, Harry's conversation with the Sorting Hat, and Harry admits to two reasons.

3 - Someone was kind enough to tell me that Cedric was a year too old in this story. (He has a tricky age!) However, with the plot of this story, it'll all work out!

I don't have any rights to the Harry Potter characters, copyright, or franchise. This is for fun, not profit.

* * *

Filius Flitwick eyed a particular blue puzzle piece then mentally compared it to the half finished blue puzzle in front of him. Carefully he laid it along side the completed part and picked up a new puzzle piece. As he examined it, Hagrid thumped into the seat next to him.

" 'Ow long 'ave they been at it, then?" the half-giant rumbled softly – which meant quite loudly, especially when one accounted for Flitwick's superior hearing – while nodding his head toward a flushed Minerva and an equally flushed Severus.

"Seven minutes" Filius said, disapproval lacing his tone as he gently slotted the piece he was holding into its appropriate location.

"Huh." From the corner of his eye, Filius watched Hagrid's bushy brows draw down into a frown. "It's not like the Professor to allow bickering."

Filius picked up another blue piece and carefully examined it instead of answering that it was _exactly_ like Professor Dumbledore to allow bickering when such a divisive, nearly combative, atmosphere was in his own favor. For his own part, Filius quite disliked arguments outside of academic debate but he was intelligent enough to go along with the flow when he could learn more through observation than through peacemaking.

"There is no way Potter passed his O.W.L.s on his own merit!" Professor Snape snapped. "It is simply impossible for a first year with a month of schooling to pass his O.W.L.s!"

'_Improbable_' Flitwick mused as he gently laid the piece in its appropriate location. '_But not impossible as we have lately seen._'

"Are you accusing Harry Potter of _cheating_?" Professor McGonagall gasped. "Because I assure you, Severus, that there was simply no way he could have! Especially since he was the _only_ student taking the exams!"

'_Also improbable_' Flitwick decided as he picked up yet another blue piece. Of course, they were all blue pieces. '_But not more improbable than a first year muggle-raised Gryffindor learning five years' worth of material to such a high level of mastery. Severus is quite right – there is something highly improbable afoot. Whatever it is, Harry Potter took advantage of it to pass his O.W.L.s._'

Flitwick set his current piece aside.

"'Ere now" Hagrid said loudly, his voice easily drowning out whatever Severus Snape might have said in return. "We shouldn't bicker with each other like first years!"

When both professors leveled their worst glares on him, Hagrid hunched over, as guilty and uncomfortable as any first year himself. From the corner of his eye, Flitwick observed the flicker of annoyance that appeared and disappeared in the time it took Pomena Sprout to look up from her Herbology journal. It was subtle and quick, a mere moment before Albus was as twinkly and mysterious as ever, but Flitwick prided himself on his powers of observation.

It certainly helped that he had lived and worked alongside Albus Dumbledore for over fifty years. Filius was certain that few people knew the headmaster as well as he did.

"Now now, there's no need to take our distempers out on Hagrid" Albus soothed. "It's my fault that we have a Sunday morning staff meeting."

'_Technically, it's Harry Potter's fault_' Filius thought wryly as he plucked up another puzzle piece. _'You've barely left the courtrooms since he attained his majority.'_

Minerva and Hagrd settled quickly under Albus' soothing tone. Severus, however, rebelliously muttered "I blame Potter."

Professor Vector, who had just entered the room with Professor Binns, rolled her eyes but slid quietly into the open seat next to Professor Burbage.

"Now that we're all here, let's begin."

Filius Flitwick vanished his puzzle and its pieces back to the table in his quarters' den. He kept half an ear on the proceedings but it was obvious that, while they had missed three weekly staff meetings, nothing particularly interesting had happened this month.

At the end of the meeting, Professor Dumbledore drew himself upright and smiled his softest, most reassuring smile.

"Could the first year professors remain behind please? I'd like a quick word with them regarding Mr. Potter's recent academic successes."

As she left, Professor Vector shot Filius a sharp look. Septima expected some high quality gossip when next they had tea together.

Filius smiled and inclined his head. Under the table he flexed his fingers in preparation. _This_ was the part of the meeting that he needed to pay attention to.

"Let us begin at the beginning" Albus said cheerfully. "How did Harry perform in your classes before his O.W.L. results arrived?"

Harry had not distinguished himself in Astronomy, Herbology, History of Magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts, or Potions. In fact, the only academic classes that he had revealed any aptitude for had been Transfigurations and Charms. In those two classes he had even asked for extra tuition in wordless magics.

'_Does he prefer Transfiguration and Charms? Or were we simply more approachable to him?_' Filius wondered as he carefully listened to whom Harry had partnered in each of his classes. '_To all appearances, he was average. Until his solicitor insisted that he be allowed to sit his O.W.L.s early, of course. But he still showed no special skill or talent until after his O.W.L. results returned. He keeps up in his private lessons and the rash of Gryffindor-instigated pranks cannot be a coincidence._'

Harry had, perhaps, been mostly honest when he evaluated himself in the Headmaster's office that first night. He was cunning and bold. But he was certainly not the petulant idiot that he had allowed himself to be perceived as that night.

Filius' gaze wandered to the Headmaster while he memorized the names of the non-Gryffindor children that Harry had shown a particular interest in.

'_Albus must see the similarities. Harry Potter is another brilliant, secretive boy who is making an effort to draw a loyal following to himself. And I will never believe that anything that occurred after November first was a product of good timing or chance. Harry Potter planned to wait until the last moment and then set several plans into motion at the same time – escape from his classes, Peter Pettigrew's capture, Sirius Black's pardon, his own emancipation, slapping Albus publically with the suits regarding his guardianship, potentially side swiping the Ministry. Any one of those objectives would have taken a great deal of time to set up so he distracted us: first with Albus' wand, then with his thirst for knowledge, his improbable alliances, and his fascination with Slytherin House.'_

"Filius?"

Flitwick startled then cleared his throat.

"I beg your pardon."

As he rattled off specifics regarding Harry's contacts within his own classroom and his private tuition of wordless, wanded magics, Filius felt his heart sink.

Albus' eyes were no longer twinkling. Instead, his old friend looked quite grave.

'_He sees the similarities as plainly as I do. But he can't see the differences'_ Filius realized. _'Young Tom would have never attacked a mountain troll to protect another student. And he was uninterested in much beyond himself. In retrospect, Tom was biding him time throughout his seven years at Hogwarts. Young Harry, however, is in motion. Whatever it is, his actions over the last twenty-one days have brought him closer to it. And whatever it is, he is angrier than an insulted hippogriff over it.'_

Filius watched his old friend unhappily. _'Albus, what have you done?'_

* * *

"Mmmmngh."

Even _breathing_ hurt.

'_What…quidditch? No… not right. We won that game. Maybe… Voldemort? No. No snake-faces or Death Eaters._'

A grim… who was Sirius… but he ran away…so Harry chased him into the forest…

"Merlin's sagging scrotum" Harry shouted as he tried to sit up then flinched. His hands, his entire body in fact, remained still. Except for his head, he was petrified.

"Language" rasped a familiar, beloved voice.

Harry jerked sharply, cracking his head against the dirt floor.

"Ooww" he whined. Harry had a very firm policy against showing weakness to his kidnappers, but this was Sirius, not some random Death Eater. Where was Sirius? Nowhere in Harry's line of sight at any rate. "Sirius let me up."

"Can't."

"You have my wand. Cast the finite."

"Can't." Sirius' voice dropped to a hoarse growl. Harry could literally hear him shuddering as he added, "You'll tell the Dementors."

"I won't" Harry promised. "I don't like them."

Sirius' hoarse bark of laughter rang out. Harry's heart squeezed so tightly that his eyes got fuzzy. He arched his head to dry his damp cheeks on his shoulders.

"No one _likes_ the Dementors" Sirius scoffed as he edged out of the shadows and into Harry's line of sight.

Harry sighed. "You're going to have to let me up eventually."

Sirius swished Harry's wand with thoughtful aimlessness. "I could obliviate you first."

Suddenly desperate to cast a wandless, wordless finite _now_, Harry glared at his godfather fiercely. He made sure to catch Sirius' pale blue eyes with his own.

"My dad'd kill you!" he hissed as he struggled futilely. He could cast the counter with a wandless, worded spell but then what? He would lose an advantage. Plus, he would have to chase Sirius down again. "How will you face him if you have to tell him that _you lobotomized me_?"

"Same way I face everyone else, I expect" Sirius said easily. "Who's your dad then?"

Harry thunked his head back against the hardpacked dirt.

'_And Sirius is considered the sanest man in Azkaban_?'

Apparently being free for nearly a year before meeting Harry had made all the difference in the original timeline. In this one, after only being free for a few months, Sirius was still mostly nuts.

"James Potter" Harry gritted out. "You're my godfather."

Well, a version of him anyway. Not too long ago it had been Harry's greatest wish to have another chance with Sirius. But this Sirius from this version of the timeline not only failed to know him, he was obviously off his rocker. Suddenly, chasing after him and running headlong into the Forbidden Forest seemed like a remarkably stupid idea. It would have been perfectly safe with Harry's godfather Sirius. Unfortunately, this Sirius was most certainly not Harry's anything. Not in his own mind, at any rate.

Tears burned at the back of Harry's eyes. It was not just that Sirius no longer remembered him in this timeline. Just like everyone else this was _a _Sirius but not _his_ Sirius.

"You're not Harry" Sirius said sharply. "He's little yet."

Harry sighed. "It's been ten years, Sirius" he said, suddenly too tired to struggle. "I'm eleven."

Sirius shook his head, his expression twisting in an achingly familiar way. It was his stubborn look – the one he wore when he stole fireplaces to listen to Harry rant about Ron or wasted precious get-away time telling Harry about his dad or something equally touching that nonetheless left Harry utterly bewildered as to how to respond.

"Just got sent to Azkaban. Haven't been there that long."

"You got some pictures in the mail. There was a note with them. Do you still have them?"

Sirius nodded once.

"The letter is from me. Harry. I took the pictures and sent them to you. Go ahead and look."

It took a bit to cajole Sirius into looking at the pictures. When Sirius finally did, his skin when from white to gray. He shook his head frantically, his dirty, matted hair flying about wildly.

"No! No, no, no, no, no, no!"

Sirius dropped Harry's wand, the letter, and the pictures as he darted away.

"Finite incantatum!"

Even as Harry collapsed bonelessly, he waved a hand at Sirius', now Padfoot's, retreating back.

"Petrificus Totalus!"


	11. Chapter 11

I don't own the rights to Harry Potter's characters, franchise, or copyright. This is for fun, not profit.

Thanks for the excellent reviews! This chapters a bit longer to make up for the shorter one.

* * *

Harry collected his wand, the photographs, and the letter. He pocketed the wand and put the photographs and letter back in their envelope. Padfoot was whimpering low in his throat. As soon as Harry moved into his line of sight, he started growling.

Harry sat down next to Sirius' head. For a very long time, Harry simply sat and stared at the grim. Padfoot never stopped growling. Gone was his playful dogfather.

'_This isn't what I planned for_' Harry eventually thought. '_I didn't come back for this. But this is my second – my only – chance to have Sirius. And I'll be damned if I give it up without even __**trying**__._'

Ignoring Sirius' growls entirely, Harry reached out with a gentle, shaking hand to rub Padfoot's ears in just the way that Harry remembered he liked it. As he petted Padfoot, Harry remembered the hopeless man in the Shrieking Shack, the man who patiently listened to Harry complain about everything his fourth year, the man who told him things Professor Dumbledore wouldn't because he acknowledged Harry's penchant for trouble, the man who cheered him up when he was threatened with expulsion, who gave Harry the best Christmas he had ever had and who tried to do what was best for Harry even when it was personally hard for him. He had some insanely bad ideas after he had allowed Professor Dumbledore to shut him away in Grimmauld Place but, well, Harry himself had had some insanely bad ideas when he had allowed Professor Dumbledore to send him back to Privet Drive. No one was perfect, especially when locked away in the place they hated most.

This person was not his Sirius but at his core, this Sirius was the same, good man.

"Padfoot, it's me. Harry." Harry's voice cracked appallingly. He cleared his throat and tried again. "James' son. Remember? You're my godfather." Harry quickly scrubbed an arm across his blurry eyes and cleared his throat again. "I know you. I remember your flying motorbike. And – And you're my dogfather." The black blur was not snarling anymore. That was a good sign, right? Harry's voice sounded odd even in his own ears as he added, "I – I've been looking for you. I missed you. I – I –"

And then Harry was crying. His entire body was wracked with those big ugly sobs that he hadn't bothered with since he realized that his family hated him and he would never be good enough to escape the boot cupboard. Ashamed, Harry twisted away from Padfoot.

He had never cried like that for anyone in the original timeline – Cedric, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Dumbledore or anyone. He had not even cried when he left everything he knew behind and went back in time. But Sirius – everything had gotten so much worse after Sirius and that was the only death that had really been his _fault_ in every sense of the word – and there was Sirius but he was crazy and Harry was a stranger to him – and suddenly everything Harry had lost and gained was so obvious. No one was dead. He friends were gone and his friendships with them this time around would never be exactly the same again but his mistakes were gone too. _He had another chance to get it right. He could avoid everything that had gone wrong the first time_. But this time around Sirius hated him. And what was the point of any of this if he was still going to end up alone and –

A huge wet nose interrupted Harry's thoughts. A huge pink tongue licked at Harry's tears, smearing dog slobber all over his face. Harry gasped then latched onto the dog and buried his face in Padfoot's smelly, matted fur.

"I'm sorry Sirius! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I won't go to the Department of Mysteries this time! I'll use the damn mirror! I won't let Bellatrix – I won't let her – I won't let you – _I missed you_!"

Harry cried until there was nothing left in him to cry with. Afterwards he simply pressed his face into Padfoot's shoulder. He was still holding onto the dog as tightly as he could, his fingers curled into the shaggy, filthy fur. His own face was probably black where he had pressed it into Padfoot. For his part Padfoot had stoically endured Harry's break with the current reality but he now shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to escape Harry but apparently he did not want to wrench himself free. That was too bad for Padfoot because Harry was selfish enough to hold on until Padfoot got around to making him let go. Honestly when Harry lost the focus and will necessary to keep Padfoot petrified that had been Padfoot's one chance to escape him completely. Padfoot had blown it.

"I brought you food" Harry mumbled into Padfoot's side. Padfoot's restless shifting turned into quivering excitement. "Promise you'll stick around when I let go."

Padfoot barked.

Grinning, Harry let go of the dog and scooted back. He subtly dragged a sleeve across his eyes as he did so. Padfoot was good enough to pretend not to notice.

The first time Harry had brought Sirius food, he had forgotten niceties such as silverware and plates which had embarrassed him, Ron, Hermione, and Sirius. This time Harry had remembered the niceties but Sirius had forgotten they existed and only Harry was embarrassed.

When Sirius was full, there was quite a bit of food left in the hamper.

"I was thinking" Harry began cautiously as Sirius inspected the thick blankets appreciatively "that maybe I could bring you some more in a couple of days."

Sirius stiffened. "Someone will notice if you keep disappearing."

Harry grinned. "No one knows as many ways in and out of the Hogwarts as I do. And my housemates are already used to covering for my disappearances." At Sirius' confused frown, Harry added, "They're usually prank related."

Sirius' expression cleared up. "You can't come through the village again."

"I could come through the Shrieking Shack next Saturday." Sirius was wavering so Harry added, "I'd bring more food."

"I'll meet you in the shack."

Harry grinned brightly.

Sunday night Harry went to the Slytherin table for dessert like always. The glares that were shot his way were both impressive and slightly alarming. Harry slowed to stand next to Draco who was not budging over for him.

"What?" Harry demanded.

Further down the table, Harry saw LeStrange roll his eyes.

"Now isn't the best time to visit, Harry" Draco said irritably.

"It was just a quidditch game!"

If he had thought the glares from the House of the Snake were impressive before, now they were downright lethal. Harry sighed.

"I'll try again next week, yeah?"

Harry slouched away from the Slytherin table. It was embarrassing to be turned down like that. And by an entire house!

"Hey Harry!" A voice shouted from the Hufflepuff table.

Harry looked up. Cedric Diggery waved a shortbread cookie at him. Harry grinned.

A few minutes later, Harry plopped down next to Cedric. He accepted the shortbread cookie.

"Cheers mate."

* * *

Dear Mum (and Dad),

I don't like that Harry has been getting awfully familiar with Jeremiah LeStrange. I don't even understand why Harry is bothering with LeStrange. LeStrange doesn't seem to have anything that Harry wants. He just wants Harry to help him study for his O.W.L.s!

Nott and Greengrass are hanging all over Harry. They're even inviting themselves (and Crabbe and Goyle) to our Defense and Charms study sessions. Of course Harry took that as a sign to start inviting all the first year Gryffindors and a bunch of the first year Hufflepuffs (including the mudbloods). It's not like any of them are any use to him!

I think there's some sort of pranking war going on in Gryffindor House. Instead of keeping it properly within their own house, they keep pranking the entire school! So far everyone has been inkstained, turned into canaries, forced to walk backwards for an entire day, and had their wands turned into rubber chickens. Harry is on one side and the Weasley twins (third years) are on the other. Neither side has been caught by the teachers or prefects yet. (Most of the prefects seem to think it's _funny_! They aren't trying very hard to catch the Gryffindors. LeStrange isn't even trying at all! He just keeps laughing and egging Harry on!)

I did fine in classes and earned Slytherin seven points this week.

Love,

Draco.

Lucius Malfoy smiled as he refolded his son's letter. He tilted his head down to peer at the court room below him. From the gallery, he could see Mrs. Bones glancing through a sheaf of papers. On her left sat a very young man with sandy hair and wide, frightened eyes. On her right sat Potter's solicitor, a whip thin man with iron gray hair and a ferocious scowl. At the table across the aisle from Mrs. Bones sat Albus Dumbledore. He was watching the people around him with a small smile quirking at the corners of his mouth. His eyes, however, lacked their usual twinkle.

Lucius smirked, viciously pleased.

Narcissa slid into the seat next to him. As she fussed with the way her robes were settled, Narcissa cast a highly complex privacy charm.

"I love that boy" Lucius said as soon as the charm settled over them. "I haven't seen Dumbledore so worked up in years."

"Did I miss anything?"

"No. Ms. Bones is preparing herself. Dumbledore is sulking. And your little charity project is turning out to be quite interesting."

Narcissa sniffed as she gently tucked Draco's letter away in her handbag.

"I've always had exquisite taste."

Lucius smiled at his wife. "And it was absolutely foolish of me to doubt that even for a moment."

Narcissa tilted her chin with mock arrogance. "And you would do well to remember that, husband."

Lucius smiled. "Do you by any chance remember any interesting gossip from the ladies' room?"

Naricssa flashed him an amused smirk. "We do more than gossip in there."

"I'm sure."

"_But_ I heard from one of the other ladies that her son was recently offered an apprenticeship at Ms. Bones' firm. She took him on sortly after I introduced Harry to Ms. Bones, in fact. The proud mothe will soon be joining us in the gallery to watch her son's first court appearance."

Well. With that sort of time and effort going into his litigation, Potter's legal bills must be quite high.

'_He can afford it_' Lucius thought as he eyed Dumbledore's stern expression with a better understanding. '_It must chaff at the old man to see the Potter fortune slipping out of his grasp._'

Lucius smirked. "That explains how she's doing it then. Ms. Bones has buried Dumbledore in motions and cross motions. I heard from Fredrickson that Dumbledore's only been at Hogwarts two days a week since she petitioned for Potter's O.W.L. exams to be administered."

"I'd think he'd use one of those two days to try to influence Harry."

Lucuis laughed. "I thought so too! Fredrickson said that she won a motion for some sort of legal binding. He literally _can't_ talk to Potter about anything related to the current and pending litigation until the matters are permanently settled."

Narcissa made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a choked giggle.

"She's vicious!" His wife's tone turned wistful. "I almost regret steering Harry toward her rather than retaining her services for ourselves."

"We have perfectly superior representation" Lucius consoled her. "Gutman and Crook can be delightfully vicious too."

Narcissa arched one perfectly shaped eyebrow at him.

"But no one is as perfectly, delightfully, exquisitely vicious as you."

Narcissa looked at him archly. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

* * *

Harry jerked his head at a familiar cave. "That your new place?"

Every Saturday, Padfoot led him to a new place. Either Sirius moved every week right after Harry fed him or this was the first time Sirius had actually brought Harry to his hide out.

Padfoot barked again and took off, confidently trotting toward the cave entrance. Harry jogged after him.

When Sirius finished eating, Harry said the thing that he said every Saturday to Sirius.

"You should come up to the castle with me." Sirius froze, as he always did, but Harry ploughed on. "It would be safer for you."

After a long moment Sirius said hoarsely "The Dementors."

It was the first time that Sirius had anything other than "No."

"We could use the Shrieking Shack or Honeydukes to get past them and onto the grounds. I know a couple of rooms in the castle that aren't even on the map."

"The map?"

"The Marauders' Map."

When Harry fished the map out and showed it to him, Sirius touched it with such reverence that Harry wondered if Sirius had been too busy to be so openly happy to see it last time or if Harry simply had not noticed how much Sirius loved his old school things. Or maybe Sirius was less openly crazy by the time Harry could openly observe him and thus better at hiding his thoughts. After a moment Harry pointed to the spot where the Room of Requirement was usually located.

"This room's the best one. It'll have everything that you want or need."

"No room there."

"Not yet. Gotta do the trick first." Harry grinned at his haggard, and probably crazy, godfather. "When you feel better, I'll show you the Chamber of Secrets."

Pale blue eyes searched Harry's face carefully as Sirius asked, "Why are you doing this?"

Harry made sure to catch Sirius' eyes with his own as he said, "Because I remember that night. I don't blame you for my mum and dad dying. You weren't their secret keeper. Peter Pettigrew betrayed them and Voldemort murdered them."

Harry watched as Sirius' eyes widened. His lips pursed even as his eyes darted frantically over Harry's face, searching for something. A moment more and then Sirius must have found what he was looking for because _he_ was holding onto _Harry_. Sirius' grip was painfully tight and there was a cool, trickling sensation against Harry's neck. Harry was stunned into stillness for a moment then held onto Sirius fiercely. There was no way he was losing Sirius this time around.

Sneaking a dog into Honeydukes' much less into the building's basement required the judicious application of several Zonko's products and a certain amount of mass chaos. If anyone ever traced the disaster back to Harry there would a lifetime ban from the shop at the very least in his immediate future. Compared to the first part, getting Padfoot through the hallways and stashing him in a very carefully constructed Room of Requirement was easy. He would never be Neville – although maybe he should have Neville redesign the room's construction? – but he knew enough to create a room that could only be accessed if he was with the group that wanted entrance to the room. When they entered the room, it was a perfect replica of the Gryffindor common room with a doorway off to one side where the boys' dorm would be, presumably leading off to a bedroom for Sirius. Hopefully there would be a bathroom somewhere beyond that.

Sirius staggered around the room touching things – the mantel, a squashy arm chair, a certain study table in the corner closest to the door, the right curtain – and Harry just watched him. Were those things important to him in the actual Gryffindor common room? When it began to look like Sirius wanted to climb into the fire place and touch the flames, Harry hurried to interrupt.

"Hey I'll go get my books while you get cleaned up."

_That_ got Sirius' attention. He grabbed Harry's shoulder in a tight, desperate grip.

"You can't go back there! Not while he's there!" Sirius' eyes glittered madly. "I've got to kill him for what he did."

Harry gaped. What? Kill – oh. Peter Pettigrew.

"It's okay" Harry tried to soothe. "The Aurors have Wormtail."

If anything, it was the wrong thing to say. Sirius immediately let go of Harry and headed for the door. Harry lunged at Sirius, grabbing a fist full of his dirty, prison-issue robes.

"I have to kill Peter" Sirius explained hoarsely as he shoved at Harry.

"No!"

Even half-mad, malnourished, and weakened from a diet that probably involved rats and scraps Sirius was still strong enough to shove eleven year old Harry away from him. Harry hit the stone floor with a jarring _thump_. Despairing and desperate, he watched Sirius' rapidly retreating back.

"You're supposed to look after me!" Harry shouted.

Sirius had his hand on the door to the hallway and the outside world. Sirius' words from the previous timeline echoed in Harry's ears, nearly all of them about James. His father.

"He _died_ for me!" Sirius' thumb depressed the latch as the rest of his hand curled around the handle. "How can you make my dad's life meaningless like that?"

Sirius stilled. Harry scrambled to his feet. Panting with terror – Sirius was in no shape to be killing _anyone_, much less someone surrounded by Aurors – he blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"They didn't have to die. They did it to save my life. And my dad expected you to look after me afterwards. They both did."

Sirius turned to look at Harry over his shoulder, his expression anguished.

"I know I failed them. It's my fault. That's why I have to kill Peter."

No! If Sirius left now, Harry might never see him again!

As Sirius moved to open the door, Harry lunged at Sirius' back. He shoved Sirius into the door as hard as he could, slamming the door shut again in the process.

"If you leave me again, you'll fail them" he snarled into the prison-issued robes as he fisted two wads of fabric. "You'll fail _him_."

There was only one _him_ in Sirius' mind. It was a low blow and desperately manipulative besides. It was a tactic worthy of a Slytherin. But it _worked_. Under him, Sirius stilled. For several long moments there was just the two of them, breathing harshly.

"It was my idea to make Peter the secret keeper" Sirius insisted, sounding less implacably certain and far more worried, as if he was trying to explain something that should be obvious to Harry. "I have to kill him."

"Sirius… Sirius my dad and mum could've just said 'no.'"

"James _trusted_ me to pick the right secret keeper!"

"No, he _trusted Peter_ to be a good secret keeper. He _trusted you_ to look after me and be a good godfather to me."

Well…Harry was not entirely sure about that one. But it sounded good. James Potter was Sirius Black's largest and most obvious weakness. Harry actually had some unpleasant suspicions about that statement. If he was right about Professor Dumbledore, there was a very real possibility that there was never any way Sirius could have saved Harry's parents or held onto Harry after their deaths.

Sirius stiffened. "Then I've already failed him. I should go kill Peter."

"You were in Azkaban without a trial. You got here as soon as you could." Why the hell hadn't he thought to kidnap Remus when he had the chance? He _knew_ Sirius was coming. Everyone had. So where was Remus when Harry really needed him? "I still need my godfather."

"You live with your muggle relatives."

"And spent the first eleven years of that being called a freak and playing their house elf and living in a boot cupboard."

Sirius made horrible sound. It took Harry a few moments to realize that he was growling.

"If you hurt them, you'll go back to Azkaban and I'll be stuck with them."

Sirius twisted out of Harry's grip and shoved him back a few steps so that he could turn to face Harry.

"I'm not allowed to kill Peter or your muggles. What good am I to you?"

"When the year ends, I'm going to come live with you" Harry said with more confidence than he felt. Dumbledore could not make him live with the Dursleys now that he was a legal adult. Right? "We're going to have fun and you're going to get better."

"But Wormtail…"

"I already caught him and turned him in to the Aurors. They're going to try him. Hopefully, you'll get a trial too."

Sirius seemed to have trouble understanding that. "But it's my fault… my fault… my fault…"

Harry bit back a sigh. "I don't think it was ever your fault. My parents could have saved themselves. They _chose_ to die for me."

"James and Lily would _never_ choose to die!" Sirius' eyes blazed with his rage and pain.

"Not even if it was the only way to save my life?" Sirius was quiet so Harry added, "I don't remember much about them but I do remember that. They must have loved me better than anything. And they loved you enough to give me to you if anything happened to them."

It was a bit embarrassing to talk about himself like that even if it must have been true but if that's what it took to refocus Sirius, Harry could put up with a little embarrassment. Sirius suddenly sagged, like his energy had left him with his overwhelming sense of purpose.

"But I failed them" he argued, sounding pitiful and young.

'_And I failed you_' Harry thought as he looked at the damaged man before him. He remembered something that the other Sirius had done for him several times when they had both been at Grimmauld Place. Harry had secretly enjoyed it even though was embarrassing and he never quite knew how to respond to it. Harry had never done it for anyone, not even Sirius.

Harry gently wrapped his arms around Sirius in a hug.

"They would have forgiven you." As Harry remembered the train station he amended, "They'll forgive you. They won't be angry with you. Everything's going to be okay."

For a moment Sirius was stiff and clearly as bewildered and uncomfortable as Harry had ever been during a hug. Then a moment later Sirius was hugging Harry desperately.

It took awhile to detach Sirius and herd him into the bathroom. It involved promises not to leave and a bit of shoving. When Harry returned to the common room all of his current textbooks were neatly stacked on a corner of one of the tables. Grabbing the one for Charms, Harry settled into the squashy armchair that Sirius had touched before.

It was a couple of chapters later when he realized that someone was staring at him.

Harry looked up. Sirius, clean and in new black robes, was sprawled in the squashy armchair across from him and staring intently at Harry. Harry blinked and tried not to look as uncomfortable as he felt.

"Hey. Um… er… Do you need anything?"

Sirius slowly shook his head.

"Can I get you anything?"

Another negative head shake.

"Do you want to talk?"

Again, the answer was a silent no. Harry tried to go back to reading. The eyes were burning into him. Exasperated Harry looked up only to realize that at some point Sirius had fallen asleep. He was in the same chair and his face was turned toward Harry but he was definitely unconscious. A quick mobilicorpus spell later and there was a thick blanket waiting for him on the table in front of the fireplace. Harry gently spread the blanket over Sirius, switched his Charms book for Herbology, and settled in to read his assigned topics.

Harry was in the middle of reading for Potions when Sirius awoke with a shout. The older man jackknifed upright on the couch, his wild eyes darting around the room before finally settling on Harry.

"James…"

"Harry." Harry winced even as he firmly corrected Sirius.

Sirius flinched and looked away. Several moments later he cleared his throat. "This is the secret room?"

"Yeah. It can become anything you want or need."

"And I wanted the Gryffindor Tower?"

"I wanted it. The room provides whatever the first person to call it requests." Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "Gryffindor Tower was my first home."

"Mine too" Sirius admitted before turning his attention to Harry. "It really hasn't changed."

"Why were you interested in the right curtain?"

Sirius smiled. His eyes were still and deep set, his face was gaunt, and his hair was a scraggly mess. It was scary. And oddly bittersweet. So Sirius told Harry stories about the Marauders – obviously minimizing Wormtail's part in the proceedings wherever possible – and Harry listened attentively and laughed in the right places. Then the room provided snacks for them while Harry told Sirius about passing his O.W.L.s.

"Already?" Sirius squinted at Harry. He fished a battered envelope out of his robes. It was the envelope in which Harry had mailed the pictures to him. "I thought you were still in your first year? Or did I lose track of time again?"

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "I took them early so that I could get emancipated. That way I wouldn't have to go home to my muggle relatives."

"So you don't need me."

"_I do_." Harry said, perhaps a bit more intensely than he intended. But there was no way that Sirius Black was going to slip away from him _twice_. "Just because I wasn't going back to the Dursleys, doesn't mean I have anywhere else to go. And as far as I know I don't know anyone who wants _me_ not The-Boy-Who-Lived."

Sirius flinched but nodded. "Except me."

"Except you. You're the only adult I've met so far who wishes that there was never any reason for that stupid title."

Maybe he was laying it on a bit thick but Mrs. Weasley had yet to meet him properly and Draco's parents probably had _plans_ for him. Hell, Albus Dumbledore had _plans_ for him. Hermione's parents, while pleasant and genuinely without ulterior motives, had always maintained a distance from him in the original timeline. Frankly Sirius, Remus, and the Weasleys were the only adults who had wanted Harry for Harry in the original timeline and even that was a bit suspect over all.

"You need me."

"Yes I need you."

And Harry _did_ need Sirius, just not in the way that he let Sirius believe that he was needed or even in the way that he was once needed. Harry was a little over eighteen. Sirius was not far past twenty-two in terms of life experiences. Maybe this time around Harry could be some of what Sirius needed too.

While Sirius was taking his afternoon nap, Harry wrote him a note saying that he would be back in the morning and headed to dinner in the Great Hall. As usual, Harry had dinner with Gryffindor and dessert with Slytherin. After dinner Harry walked back to Gryffindor Tower with his friends. He played a couple of rounds of Wizards' Chess with Ron, a few rounds of Exploding Snap with Neville, Lee Jordan, and the Weasley twins, and studied next to Hermione for a couple of hours.

When Harry and Ron headed up to the dormitory for bed, they found a grim in Ron's bed, tangled in the blankets.

"Why is there a dog in my bed?" Ron's gaze turned accusatory. "Harry! You conjured a grim! In my bed!" Ron paled. "A grim…" Ron shouted and flailed backwards, inadvertently slamming the door shut and trapping himself in a room with Harry and a grim.

"Ron! He's just a dog!"

"Just a dog! Harry, _grims only show up before someone dies and he's in my bed_! My Uncle –"

Sirius transformed back into his human form. Naked and tangled in the blankets.

"This was my bed when I was at school."

Ron made a squawking sound and started fumbling for his wand.

Harry grinned. Already this meeting was more fun than the first one in the original timeline.

"Ron, meet my godfather Sirius Black."

Ron stopped fumbling. "Oh. Well. Your godfather. That's okay then. Nice to meet you." He glared at Harry. "You forgot to mention that he was an animagus."

Harry tried to look sweetly innocent. "Oops."

Ron shot him a disbelieving look.

To distract Ron from ranting in front of Sirius – and sooner or later there would be a rant – Harry said, "I really like your idea to dye all the Slytherins' hair red and gold. What color should we do the 'Puffs?"

Ron blinked then smirked evilly. But it was Sirius' ghastly smile that brightened Harry's evening. There was the sound of a familiar step on the stairs. Sirius only had a moment to change back into Padfoot before the door burst open again to reveal Dean and Seamus.

"Ron there's a bear in your bed."

"It's Harry's dog."

Both boys turned to stare at Harry. Harry shrugged.

"He missed me so he came to find me."

"Where did you get a dog like that?"

"My muggle aunt breeds dogs. Why?"

"He's brilliant!"

Padfoot woofed happily and hopped off of Ron's bed to lick Dean's face enthusiastically. It was probably a reward for having the good taste to like him.

"What his name?" Dean asked as he laughed.

For a moment Harry suffered from an acute case of vertigo. Then he grinned and shrugged.

"Padfoot."

"Padfoot?" Seamus yelped and edged away from the dog. "Are you sure he's not a grim?"

Harry grinned. "I named him for one of the patron saints of mischief-making."

Ron snorted. The other two boys groaned theatrically.

"I'm not sure I want to ask" Dean said.

"Can you not prank Gryffindor this time?" Seamus demanded.

"Who said I had anything to do with those other pranks?"

Seamus rolled his eyes and muttered something unflattering under his breath. Harry pretended not to hear him.

"You can bullshit the rest of the school" Dean said calmly. "But we live with you. Everyone in Gryffindor Tower knows something's up between you and the Weasley twins."

"Just imagine how much fun it would be if we did a spot of mischief together."

Dean, Seamus, and even Ron paled.

Later Harry was arguing with the face in the back of Quirrell's head when an odd noise made him lose his train of thought. He stopped arguing to listen for it. Of course Quirrell took the opportunity to stuff the last treacle tart into the extra face's mouth. There! Again! A sort of whimpering sound. Harry turned away from the teacher only to find himself in the forbidden forest at night. Padfoot had collapsed and the Dementors were closing in on Harry, Padfoot, and Hermione. Padfoot whined and turned back into Sirius. Sirius whimpered again. There! That was the last time – the last time Harry had heard – heard –

Harry jerked awake.

At the foot of his bed, Padfoot was pawing and whining in his sleep. Harry pulled his wand out from under his pillow and cast a quick silencing charm around his bed. Then he scrambled out from under the blankets. He ignored the bite of the dorm room's cold air in favor of kneeling next to the dog.

Then Harry did something that he had always wished someone would do for him after a nightmare.

"Shhhe Sirius" Harry murmured as he stroked the dog's silky ears. "It's okay. Everything is fine."

The sleeping Padfoot was not persuaded.

Harry gently shook one of Padfoot's massive shoulders. The dog jerked away with a wild flash of his eyes and snap of his teeth.

"Sirius!" Harry hissed. "Settle down!"

Sirius did as he was told. Harry liked to think that it was because Sirius recognized him and trusted him. The more truthful answer, however, was probably that Sirius thought he was James Potter.

Didn't they smell differently or something?

Either way, Harry tentatively reached out to stroke Padfoot's head and ears. Slowly the tense dog relaxed under Harry's hand. When Harry stopped petting him, Sirius whined and butted his massive head against Harry. Harry laughed and scrambled back to the top of the bed. As he settled himself under the warm blankets again, Padfoot whined but settled back down at the foot of the bed.

Harry hesitated a moment. Padfoot was clearly unhappy. And Harry had always wanted someone to care for him – _not_ baby him – after his own nightmares. And the bed was more than wide enough. As big a dog as Padfoot was, Harry was a small and rather scrawny child.

Tentatively Harry patted the spot next to him.

"Would you like to sleep here Padfoot?"

The dog yipped happily then crawled up to the head of the bed. Harry threw an arm across the massive grim and went back to sleep.

Padfoot continued to have nightmares. He also continued to share Harry's bed despite the odd ways that Ron kept looking at them. Harry found that he really did not care. Sirius was his godfather – and as close as any brother to his dad – and he needed someone to look after him. And even if Sirius and Ron and everyone else did not know it, Harry needed Sirius too. Waking up to a big, goofy Padfoot was the perfect way to encapsulate everything that he had gained from playing fast and loose with death and time and consequences. Plus, the giant, warm weight leaning into his side kept Harry's own nightmares at bay.

The rest of Gryffindor House soon grew accustomed to, then fond of Padfoot. Even if they had hated him, no one would have ratted Harry out for sneaking him into the dorms. It wasn't the Gryffindor way. As a House they were not as loyal as Hufflepuffs but they all had a certain 'Us versus Them' mentality when it came to authority – it was just slightly less pronounced when that authority was a former member of the House. It certainly helped that Sirius made an effort to be such a cheerful and friendly dog. Harry found himself hoping that all of the constant affection and attention was good for Sirius the man as well as for Sirius the dog. All told four Gryffindor and no Slytherins ended up knowing that Padfoot was Sirius – Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville.

All four of them were huddled up together and reviewing their notes on colored dyes when the twins ambled over.

"His name is brilliant!" Fred enthused.

"This your mischief?" George asked as he jerked his thumb at Padfoot who was currently having his ears rubbed by the Gryffindor chasers.

"He's the next part of that prank from the beginning of the year." The twins' gazes sharpened. Harry patted the pile of notes spread out in front of the four Gryffindor first years. "This is our mischief."

Fred nodded at the grim. "So whatever you did before Dumbledore's wand is a long-term sort of prank?"

Harry grinned evilly. "Definitely."

"Is it on Dumbledore?" George asked.

"Among others. It's the sort of thing everyone can enjoy."

The twins nodded. Fred suddenly smirked. "We'll leave you to it then. We've got homework to do."

Harry laughed so hard he cried as the twins sauntered away.

"I suddenly feel very sorry for the prefects" Neville murmured.

"Them? What about us?" Ron demanded. "They're already planning to outdo us!"

"We shouldn't even be having this sort of competition!" Hermione said fretfully even as she scribbled a couple of notes regarding edibility and pattern design.

Harry grinned. "But since we _are_, don't you want to win Hermione?" As her expression wavered, Harry absentmindedly added, "It's a good form of practical revision. There were Color Changing Charms on my Charms O.W.L."

Hermione's expression settled on determined. "I was thinking that it would be impossible to charm everyone individually even if we put a potion in everyone's shampoo and conditioner. Even if everyone used the stuff the school provides, everyone's on their own schedule so we would need some sort of complicated timing mechanism to dye everyone's hair all at the same time. It would be simpler and easier to get everyone if we used a potion and serve it at a meal like Fred and George did." She shoved a sketch and table across the table at Harry. "And if we somehow make these changes we could have more than just solid colors."

Harry read over her notes and slowly grinned. There were some tweaks that they would have to make to make the charms compatible and they needed to test their creation first but it was definitely viable.

"Hermione, you're the brightest witch of our generation."

Hermione beamed.


	12. Chapter 12

This is done for fun, not profit. I don't have any rights with regards to the Harry Potter franchise, characters, or copyright. (And thanks for the awesome reviews! They really inspire me!)

* * *

Harry had thought that the hardest part of the prank was going to be persuading the house elves to let him poison the entire Great Hall. That misconception lasted right up until he saw a very young house elf swaddled in a tea towel. If the tea towel's crest had not been arranged so that it lay over the infant elf's chest, Harry never would have noticed it. His trip to his family's vaults in Gringotts left him with the certain knowledge that child was wrapped in a tea towel with the Potter family crest embroidered onto it. When the child's mother – who was wearing a similarly embroidered tea towel toga style – saw him, she squeaked and vanished. Then Wibbly was standing in front of Harry and bobbing bows to him. Harry's sharp eyes suddenly picked out the pin that held his tea towel toga in place. It was in the shape of the Potter family crest.

Suddenly Wibbly's friendship and deference in both timelines made a lot more sense. As did the warring House Elves in the last battle before his little jaunt through time.

"How may we help young master today?"

Not serve. Help.

Harry grinned and produced four tiny shrunken bottles from his pocket. He enlarged them and placed them on the table.

"I would very much like it if elves with your crest could lightly coat this on all of the silverware used at tonight's dinner. The potion is harmless but it is important that the potions go to the houses that they're labeled for."

The ancient elf's eyes sharpened, as did his affable smile. "All of the silverware sets young master?"

"Yes please."

"We shall try to be discrete."

Harry grinned. "Thank you. I appreciate that."

Wibbly grinned back. "You are quite welcome Master Potter." He snagged a blackberry tart from a passing tray. "A snack young master?"

Harry grinned.

At dinner that night Harry's hair turned the most enchanting shade of green. A blushing Hermione had said during the testing phase that it matched his eyes. He watched with amusement as silver serpents coiled and slithered amid Hermione's bushy green frizz. Every once in awhile a snake would swiftly strike at and swallow a little silver rat. The girl herself was beaming with delight. Percy was glaring at him and the twins were roaring with laughter and slapping Ron on the back as Harry turned to survey the Great Hall. Its students were either laughing or shouting in outrage. Padfoot, stashed under the table thanks to a cluster of Gryffindors who had all entered the hall together, literally shook the House table with the force of his silent mirth.

At the Hufflepuff table, which was situated next to the Gryffindor table, Harry easily picked out a laughing Cedric Diggory. His hair was dark blue and bronze eagles swooped down to catch hapless rats then settle on a tuft of hair to rip the little creatures to pieces. At the Ravenclaw table Harry easily picked out Cho Chang's bright yellow hair. Black badgers lumbered through her tresses, squashing rats underfoot as they went. It was too far to see more than a seething mass of Weasley redheads at the Slytherin table. Harry laughed.

When he turned to look at the teachers' table, Harry literally doubled over with laughter. He laughed so hard that he cried. His wonderful, clever house elves had gone a step further and pranked each teacher according to the house affiliations they had held while they were in school.

It was glorious.

When dessert time rolled around, it was less glorious when most of Slytherin glared at his approach. It had been a little over a week before most of Slytherin House forgave him for the quidditch game. Now some of them seemed to be reconsidering their grudging reacceptance of his presence. LeStrange, perhaps mindful of Harry's promise of O.W.L. tutoring budged over so that Harry could sit between him and some fifth year that he did not know. Harry plopped into place and helped himself to a bit of fudge as he cheerfully nodded at LeStrange's hair.

"I like it."

His hair was Weasley red with rampaging golden lions that occasionally pounced on tiny rats and ripped them limb from limb.

"I prefer yours." LeStrange said around a raspberry tart. "Did you know it matches your eyes?"

Harry had asked Sirius to do the artistic portion of the spell since their only other option had been to ask Dean for help. The figures were excellent but the rat motif was a bit telling.

Harry grinned. "A pretty bird might've mentioned it."

"Your mud – muggleborn?"

Harry tried not to notice his slight slip. At least he was trying to change.

"I was eating with her when my hair changed."

LeStrange seemed torn between exasperation and amusement.

"How could you turn our hair such a horrid shade of Weasley red?" Pansy, who was sitting across from him, shrilly interrupted.

"Godric Gryffindor had red hair. Just like the Weasleys." Harry made a point of giving Pansy a slow once over. "Anyway, it's an improvement on you Parkinson."

With an aggravated noise Pansy stood up and stormed off to sit with Nancy Moon and Daphne Greengrass.

"You're making it difficult for yourself in our House" LeStrange noted casually. "Not everyone possesses a Gryffindor's sense of humor."

"Clearly you've never met Percy Weasley. He looks ready to spit nails." Harry snagged a raspberry tart and tried to look innocent. "Anyway, why is everyone blaming me for these pranks? It's probably some seventh year." Harry jabbed his half-eaten tart at his head. "I'm as much a victim as anyone else!"

LeStrange just grinned. "Do you think I could find a bottle of this stuff in time for Slytherin versus Ravenclaw? I'd want your hair coloring naturally."

Harry smirked evilly. "Maybe if you're lucky."

Sadly Professor Snape was not nearly so understanding as Jeremiah LeStrange was. He seemed to take the prank as a personal offense. And unlike the rest of the staff who believed that all of the students were probably innocent until evidence or circumstances proved them guilty, Professor Snape already knew exactly who to blame. Professor Snape, his red hair swinging wildly around his face, started barking orders as soon as Harry stepped into the classroom the next day. This meant that Harry simply did not have time to start his potions lesson the same way that he started every lesson and detention with Professor Snape: by asking a question about his mum.

"Chop the flobberworms!"

"Yes sir!"

"Crush the dragonfly wings! Finely!"

"Yes sir!"

"This potion is the wrong shade of blue!"

"Sorry sir!"

Severus Snape's avoidance of Harry's questions actually cheered Harry. He never said anything about Harry's mum but he never said anything unpleasant about her either. And since Severus Snape never gave ground, not even in the face of his own death, Harry knew these little lapses for what they were: weakness. Professor Snape had endured the questions because he was Lily Potter's son. He had never answered them because he was also James Potter's son. But now, after a prank that had never been intended to hurt anyone, even if the connection to James Potter had been emphasized he was enraged and off balance. And like any well trained Gryffindor or Slytherin, Harry knew how to exploit weakness when he saw it. So he started lingering a few minutes after his lessons and detentions ended.

"Were you in her year?"

"Get out!"

"Do you know her favorite book?"

"Leave!"

"Did she like quidditch?"

"Out!"

Snape could have avoided this too by simply leaving before Harry did. But Severus Snape had already given up too much ground by avoiding the questions at the beginning of the lessons and detentions. He could not simply retreat from Harry's questions all together. Severus Snape would never run from Harry Potter. But that trapped Snape between his pride and the ground already lost and they both knew it.

Professor Snape was stubborn but Harry was even more stubborn. A kinder student may have backed off because the questions were hurting Professor Snape. Harry, however, pressed harder. It was only a matter of time before Harry had what he wanted. And they both knew it.

* * *

The problem with hiding a fugitive, especially an innocent one, was that sooner or later one needed to consult with legal counsel. So Harry arranged an appointment with his solicitor by owl then got the twins to help him, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Padfoot sneak out of the castle via the Whomping Willow. It was a huge risk, especially with the Dementors on the prowl and Wormtail blabbing to the Aurors, but it would only make Sirius crazier if he thought he was confined to the castle. And Harry needed the others' friendships the same way that he needed Sirius, even if they were almost a decade younger than him now.

'_It's going to be fine. I can side-along apparate Sirius and my patronus is even better after the whole Train Station of Death. I can handle this._' Harry thought even as he said aloud "Promise me that you'll straight to the Three Broomsticks after you get Padfoot through the fire and stay there until we get back."

"Of course!" Hermione gasped, scandalized as she hitched her bookbag higher on her shoulder. "You're the only one that can do the patronus charm when there are Dementors on the loose!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "You both worry more than my mum."

Harry tried to grin at one of his two, now three, best mates. "The Dementors don't care about catching Sirius Black, Ron. They attacked a quidditch game for fun. Do you really think they won't Kiss three firsties who can't drive them off?"

Padfoot whimpered softly and moved to walk closer to Harry, pressing his coarse black fur into the side of Harry's leg. Harry absently rested his hand on Padfoot's head. Hermione and Neville were a bit green. Even Ron was pale.

"But the ministry –" Ron weakly began to protest before Harry interrupted him.

"Even if the ministry punishes them, no one knows how to kill them. And whatever the ministry does won't get your soul back." One look at their frightened faces softened Harry's heart. "Wait for me and I'll treat you three at the Three Broomsticks and Zonko's."

Ron brightened. Even Hermione and Neville seemed excited at the idea.

Mrs. Bones was much less excited when he insisted that his dog attend their meeting. But she let Sirius into her office where he promptly settled next to Harry's chair and leaned into the side of his leg. When Harry announced that he wanted her to represent, or arrange the best representation for, Sirius Black in his criminal case, his negotiations with the ministry in their case against Peter Pettigrew, and his suit for reparations and punitive damages against the ministry for their disregard of their own laws and all of his years and suffer in Azkaban.

Mrs. Bones closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. She opened her eyes, fixed him with a piercing gaze, and spoke.

"You are a very interesting client."

"Is that a 'no'?"

"I'm _your_ solicitor. If there were conflicts of interest –"

"There won't be." Harry said firmly. "I only want what's best for Sirius. And once he's free of this nonsense he'll look after me."

Padfoot thumped his tail.

"You're an emancipated adult, Harry. You don't need someone to look after you."

"I want someone to spend Christmases and birthdays and holidays with" Harry said. "I don't need him to be my father but I want – I need – a family. A real one that doesn't hate me."

Padfoot rested his giant dog's head on Harry's thigh. He licked one of Harry's conveniently placed hands.

"And Sirius?"

"I think he needs that too. He was supposed to be my family if anything went wrong. I know that he loved my father better than anyone in the world. And I'm James Potter's son so he'll love me too."

Padfoot nuzzled his hand reassuringly. For the most part Sirius had been reassuring and playful toward Harry as a man in the previous timeline. It was far from shocking that he would be the same as a dog. Hell, it was probably part of the reason that his animagus form was a dog.

"Mr. Potter even assuming that Sirius Black is innocent, no one who goes into Azkaban comes out the same person. Even if they only stay a few hours, they're changed. He may not be the same person he was when your father knew him."

"He isn't." Harry said honestly. "But he's still Sirius Black."

"He'll need to see healers and mind healers."

"He'll see them."

Mrs. Bones sighed. "Very well. Against my better judgment I will accept Sirius Black's case on behalf of my law firm. However, the partner who specializes in criminal law will actually represent Sirius Black in this matter."

And instant later where a grim had been standing was a gaunt man in black robes. They were a bit big for Sirius since Harry had guessed Sirius' size when he had owl-ordered them from Gladrags. But they were clean, whole, and warm.

Harry watched as Mrs. Bones startled and bit back a scream. She shot him a glare that should have seared his flesh from his bones.

Sirius grinned. "I'm Sirius Black. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Bones."

A few hours later, Harry and Padfoot purchased every used wand in the used wand bins outside of some of the more disreputable shops off of Diagon Alley and some of the alleys surrounding it. (Padfoot had flatly refused to let Harry set foot into Nocturn Alley, no matter how many used wands might be for sale there.) One of them would hopefully match Sirius well enough to be a temporary wand until Sirius could go to Ollivander's. After that they went to meet Ron, Hermione, and Neville at the Three Broomsticks.

They had taken a table in the corner where Hermione had somehow nagged the other boys into doing schoolwork. There was a tray of tarts in front of them and bottles of butterbeer. Harry snagged the fourth chair at the table which unfortunately left his back to the door then helped himself to two tarts – one for him and one for Padfoot who settled himself under the table.

"Mmmmm… Treacle tart. Haven't had these in ages."

"It's only been a few weeks." Hermione corrected primly. "And we don't have everything every night. With the way that you're carrying on I would think Professor Dumbledore is punishing you."

"He is." Harry said a bit sadly. No matter how terrible the old man was, Harry found that he was still quite fond of him. The heart was a stupid, stupid organ. "Haven't had these since I passed my O.W.L.s."

"Why?" Ron demanded.

At the same time Hermione made an exasperated, disbelieving noise. "If Professor Dumbledore was punishing you he would just give you a detention and take house points. Thinking that he'd do away with treacle tarts just to punish you is stupid!"

Well. There was no way Harry was going to admit that Professor Dumbledore was in a snit because Harry had decided to change the timeline, stolen his wand back, refused to let Dumbledore rifle through his brain, was in the process of making him return Harry's property, and definitely was not going to let the old man kill him.

"I don't think he likes me" Harry said instead.

"Still upset about the Sorting Feast I expect" Ron said knowledgeably. "Sooner or later he'll see how funny it was and forgive you. That's how it always works with the twins."

Hermione frowned. Neville just looked worried.

Harry tried to smile. "I expect you're right."

After that Sirius began spending most of his time outside of Hogwarts. Harry did not inquire too closely but wherever he was going and whatever he was doing it had a lot to do with his own freedom and getting Peter tried and convicted.

"Hey! Cedric!" Harry shouted as soon as he left his private Transfiguration lesson. The boy in question obligingly swung around to face Harry. Two boys and three girls that Harry was only marginally familiar with turned to face him too.

Harry jogged over to meet the fourth year. "A word?"

Cedric nodded and moved slightly away from the others and towards Harry. "What's up?"

Harry grinned cheerfully. "I challenge you to quidditch after the last class and before the holidays."

Cedric blinked. "Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor? We already –"

Harry shook his head. "No no no!" He interrupted. "A friendly game. Anyone from any House can come to play on either team. You and I'll be captains and we'll pick teammates."

Cedric grinned. "That'll be fun. Gonna send 'round an announcement?"

Harry shook his head. "Nah. We'll just do it with word of mouth. It'll be more fun."

"And the Slytherins won't have as much time to complain."

Harry grinned. "That too. Flint's still a bit sore over me catching the snitch with my mouth."

Harry was excited about his upcoming pick-up game for the rest of the day. He whistled his way down to dinner.

"Don't listen to him" Hermione was saying comfortingly to Ron when Harry joined them. "It's just _Malfoy_."

Flint was not the only Slytherin that was still irritated with Harry. Draco, although friendly to Harry's face, took his irritation out on the other first year Gryffindors. Both the Slytherins and the Gryffindors were good enough not to tell Harry about it. But Harry had sharp ear and after six years of open enmity with Draco, he could easily guess what the bratty ferret was saying and doing.

Harry plopped down on the bench across from Ron and Hermione and next to Neville.

"What'd Malfoy say to Ron?"

"Something about people who stay at Christmas not being wanted at home."

The echoes between the timelines were sort of dizzying.

"Is he really being awful?" Harry asked Neville in an undertone.

Neville startled then hesitantly nodded. "I know he's your friend Harry" Neville said earnestly. "But he's still a prat. Don't worry about it though."

Harry frowned but changed the subject. "Pick up quidditch on the last day of classes. Anyone in?"

Of course that immediately got everyone's attention. Word echoed up and down Gryffindor table: Harry Potter had challenged Cedric Diggory to an informal game of quidditch and did anyone want to show up for the teams?

"Do we have to be on a House team?" A fifth year named Brandon Lynch called down the table to Harry.

"Course not!" Harry called back. "It's not a proper inter-House game. Anyone can play on either team."

This earned a dull roar of excited speculation from the Gryffindor table. Harry was almost sorry when dessert came and it was time to go eat with the Slytherins. If he missed too many desserts with them, they might get used to his absence though. And that went against Harry's plans for inter-House unity.

So Harry trudged over to the Slytherin table. Draco saw Harry coming but did not scoot over to give him room. Instead LeStrange waved him over. Harry found himself seated with LeStrange in his circle of fifth years. Harry helped himself to a piece of chocolate cake as Jeremiah LeStrange and his friends exchanged Christmas plans. They were excited but in that still way that older Slytherins acquired. It was all in their eyes, Harry decided as he helped himself to a piece of pie, and maybe their body language. They certainly were not as noisy as the Gryffindor fifth years.

So Harry listened to them and watched them. LeStrange seemed especially close with a boy named Kevin Noxias but he seemed comfortable with the others. Dagwood Larkins, the boy he had helped against the troll, kept shooting Harry speculative looks. Harry also learned that the Malfoys, the Greengrasses, the Crabbes, the Parkinsons, the LeStranges, the Larkinses, the Zabinis, and a bunch of pureblooded families that Harry was unfamiliar with were all having Christmas and New Year's parties. Apparently the invitations had either gone out or were soon going out. Most of the boys seemed to be planning on being invited to most of those parties.

"What about you Harry?" Jeremiah LeStrange asked.

"Pick up quidditch game as soon as classes are over. You're welcome to come if you'd like."

The fifth year boys' expressions sharpened with interest.

"Are you going home?" LeStrange asked.

"No. Definitely not."

Jeremiah nodded and produced an off white envelope as did Dagwood Larkins.

"We didn't want to make trouble for you if you were going home to your mu – muggles."

Harry nodded. "Thanks." He stared down at the envelopes in his hands. "I've never been invited to something like this."

In either timeline. It was a sad fact of life that Harry Potter was probably socially stunted. He had not even bought dress robes when he was Diagon Alley. Did this count as them making an effort not to end up Dark? Or were they just trying to get some sort of advantage with Harry? Both? Or was it too early to worry about things like that?

Interestingly, pockets of the Slytherin table were just as interested in Harry's pick up quidditch game as the Gryffindor table had been.

'_They really aren't very different from us_' Harry thought as he nibbled on his pie and examined his invitations. '_Just quieter. And sneakier. And better dressed._'

Harry was still worrying about his invitations the next day at lunch. He was scribbling and blotting out and sucking on his quill at the Hufflepuff table when Justin Finch-Fletchley delicately leaned over his shoulder. Justin's curly hair was a bit too long and it dangled in his eyes. Irritably, Justin shoved his curls behind his ears.

"Have you considered using 'Yours sincerely' before your name?" Harry sat back and blinked at Justin who flushed slightly and added, "And it might be better to actually address the letter to either the head of the family or whoever invited you."

Harry grinned. "You're good at this!"

Harry pulled a clean bit of parchment out of his bag and showed Justin the two invitations from the night before.

"How should I write this then?"

"Do you intend to attend these events?"

Harry nodded. "Might as well. It'll be something new."

Justin shot Harry a considering look then nodded. "Okay."

Justin helped Harry to write out a standard acceptance and a standard rejection then suggested that Harry buy some extremely expensive parchment and envelopes by owl order.

"They'll be expecting it" Justin said. "It'll be considered good manners."

Harry nodded and promised to by the specific parchment that Justin suggested even as he was grateful Ron was not around to hear it. Ron would have a fit over Harry spending so much money on parchment!

That Friday Harry snuck out of the castle and down to Hogsmeade where he flooed to Diagon Alley. An owl sent a few days before ensured that Madam Malkin was ready, willing, and able to help him. Narcissa Malfoy was also there. Harry beamed at his cousin. She smiled back and quickly hugged him. She was not as soft or all encompassing as Mrs. Weasley but she was just as warm and comforting. She even seemed to be rather fond of Harry.

"Hello Harry."

"Hello Mrs. Malfoy."

"You haven't shown Draco how to get out of the castle, have you Harry?"

"No Mrs. Malfoy."

"Good." She let go of him and took a step back. "Your robes are too short."

Harry blinked then looked down at himself. He could see his sneakers, ankles, and the bit just above them.

"They weren't that short on me when I bought them."

Mrs. Malfoy laughed. "You grew silly. We shall simply have to see to your school robes while you're here."

That seemed to be some sort of signal. As soon as she said that Madam Malkin bustled from the background.

"Please remove your robes, Mr. Potter."

Harry shrugged and obligingly took them off. Underneath he had on a pair of muggle jeans that fit him and a muggle t-shirt. Mrs. Malfoy wrinkled her nose as his choice of attire but said nothing as Madam Malkin's tape measure went to work. While that happened Madam Malkin showed him and Mrs. Malfoy a selection of fabrics and colors. They ended up choosing a thin over robe in a shade of green that matched his eyes, a thicker white under robe, black dress trousers, a black vest, a white shirt, a green tie that matched his over robe, and a white undershirt. Harry stared at the stack of clothes in open horror.

"I just want to go to a few parties. Do I really need all of that?"

"A few parties?" Narcissa Malfoy went on alert like a bloodhound scent prey. "How many parties have you agreed to attend?"

"Just three. Daphne Greengrass, Jeremiah LeStrange, and Kevin Larkins all invited me to their holiday parties."

"And you'll be invited to ours." Mrs. Malfoy promised. "Draco will be handing out the invitations soon."

Harry nodded. "Okay. So four."

Mrs. Malfoy shook her head. "Harry you cannot attend four parties in the same dress robes."

Harry blinked. "Why not?"

"It just isn't done! You're not poor, Harry darling. And even if you were, you would charm your robes a different color."

"So why can't I do that? I'm good at Charms!"

"_Harry_!"

For some reason it was desperately important to Narcissa Malfoy that he have more than one dress robe to his name. Harry sighed.

"Can we at least make it so that they all match?"

Narcissa, it seemed, could be gracious in victory. "Of course dear."

Harry ended with three more thin over robes – a Gryffindor red one, one the color of burnished copper, and one in a really dark shade of blue – one more thicker white under robe, and two more thicker black under robes. He also found himself with matching ties and interchangeable shirts, undershirts, trousers, and vests. At least she had not insisted on picking out pants for him. All of his robes were to be done in very formal cuts but each one had to be slightly different from the others.

"But I like this one best."

"Yes dear. But you don't want people to think you're just charming your robes different colors do you?"

"Uhm… no?"

Narcissa beamed.

As December drew along Harry got more invitations and placed a lot of owl orders for gifts. The parties must have been carefully organized because among the people that he knew, no two parties fell on the same night. Harry invested in some excellent stationary then very politely sent 'Thanks but no thanks' notes to the strangers who invited him to their Christmas parties, including the families who had sons and daughters in the upper years at Hogwarts. He accepted invitations from Daphne Greengrass, Jeremiah LeStrange, Kevin Larkins, and Cedric Diggory. Draco never gave Harry an invitation and Harry never pressed him. Maybe the Malfoys had changed their mind. Or maybe Draco just did not want him there. Either way, it was too much hassle to ask Draco for an invitation.

Ron kept shooting in unreadable looks and demanding "Who'd want to party with a bunch of Slytherins?"

"Cedric Diggory is in Hufflepuff." Harry said absently as he sent a polite refusal to the Burbages.

"They're probably trying to turn you Dark!"

"Maybe I'll turn them Light then."

There was not much Ron could say to that so he stormed out of the common room and up the stairs to the boys' dorms. Harry frowned as he watched Ron leave.

"What's his problem?"

"He's worried that you'll like one of the party throwers better" said George's voice unexpectedly.

Harry startled then turned to look at the Gryffindor behind him. For once, he was without Fred or Lee Jordan. For one inexplicable moment it violently reminded Harry of George standing alone and lost after Fred had died. He nearly vomited on George's shoes.

"All right there Harry?"

Harry nodded weakly. "Yeah. Why would I like anyone better? He's my best mate! And the Weasleys are my favorite family!"

George grinned and slid into the seat across from Harry. "Really? Your favorite?"

"'Course!"

"Even Percy?"

"He's alright" Harry said firmly. "Hermione might've turned out that way without me and Ron and Neville to loosen her up."

George grinned. "Yeah? Too bad there isn't a Potter in fifth year then."

"Not that I don't like talking to you but where's Fred? It's a bit odd to see you without him and Lee Jordan."

George laughed. "I'm Fred."

"Are not."

George looked pleased at Harry's recognition but said, "If anyone asks I am. George is in a broom closet with a Ravenclaw. And Lee is… busy. Studying. In an unused classroom because the common room is too noisy."

"Mmhm." Harry said in tones of vast and intense disbelief. "Really?"

"I solemnly swear that they're up to no good."

Harry laughed. "Brilliant!"

Fred and Lee chose that moment to stagger back into the common room. George grinned at Harry as he stood up to go join them.

"Don't worry about Ron. Ickle Ronnikins can be a bit thick but his heart's in the right place. Usually."

If Ron was an occasional prat with his heart in the right place then Draco Malfoy was usually a prat with his heart nowhere in sight.

"What's your problem?" Harry demanded when Draco went off on Ron in the halls about being poor. Again. Hagrid's defense did not stop Snape from removing points.

"I don't have a problem" Draco snapped.

"Bullshit!" Draco gaped. Either he knew the muggle curse word or it was the tone of Harry's voice. Either way, he knew Harry was angry with him. "Whatever your problem is, take it up with me and leave the others out of it!"

Draco blinked then glared then stormed away from Harry. He stopped giving the other Gryffindors grief after that. He also stopped talking to Harry entirely, even when Harry was sitting right next to him at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. Draco's sulks and glares did not stop Theodore Nott or Daphne Greengrass from inviting Harry over to sit with them. Nott even made a point of sending smirks and pointed looks Draco's way. Parkinson and Zabini were delighted to see them feuding. Crabbe and Goyle did not seem to notice the change.

The last day of lessons dawned bright and clear. It was a perfect day for quidditch. Most of the student body was vibrating with excitement. It was even better than on game days in some respects since everyone had an equal chance of being picked to play for a team.

Lessons passed in a blur. Harry soon found himself standing with Cedric Diggory on the quidditch field. In the stands was a huge chunk of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and a smattering of Ravenclaws and Slytherins. Padfoot settled himself at the top of the stands where he would have the best view this time. Standing next to Harry was Cedric Diggory and in front of them milled about twenty students. Most of them were in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff but there were a couple of Slytherins and Ravenclaws in the mix from what Harry could remember of who belonged in which House. Harry was the only first year on the field. Fred and George showed up with a suspicious number of school brooms in tow. The older Gryffindor students winked at Harry, heaped the brooms at the base of the Gryffindor stands, and joined the milling hopefuls.

"Everyone line up" Cedric ordered. "How are we supposed to pick people if we can't see you lot?"

Everyone lined up in a more or less straight line. Since Cedric won the coin toss he got first pick.

"Fred Weasley!"

"George Weasley!" George made a face at Harry but joined him quickly enough.

Immediately the twins started alternately taunting and boasting to each other.

Cedric chose the Hufflepuff keeper. "Frank Jones!"

"Oliver Wood!" Harry was pretty sure that Oliver would kill him in his sleep if someone else played keeper.

Cedric chose the only Ravenclaw chaser in the lineup. "Marion Potts!"

"Adrian Pucey!"

The Slytherin startled but moved to stand next to Harry. He kept shooting Harry odd looks though. What was with people doing that all the time? Did they always look at him like that and he just failed to notice it in the original timeline?

When the choices were made, Harry had three Gryffindor quidditch players, one Slytherin quidditch player, Ashley MacDougal of Hufflepuff, Percy Weasley, and Wilhelmina Roper from Ravenclaw. Ashley and Wihelmina were guesses since they looked no more or less confident than anyone else in the lineup. Neither had ever been on a quidditch team in Harry's original timeline. With groans of disappointment everyone else drifted off of the field and into the stands. Three of Harry's teammates and four of Cedric's had to borrow school brooms.

Harry drifted over the quidditch pitch, looking for the snitch but not really worried about it. Below him George and Percy made a good pair of beaters. It was startling at first until Harry realized that Percy really was the most observant Weasley. He probably knew the twins' tells better than anyone except their other twin. That familiarity sort of made up for Percy's mere liking of quidditch. Oliver was as formidable a keeper as ever. Whatever beliefs he may have had about blood purity, Adrian Pucey made a good team with muggleborn Wilhelmina Roper. Ashley was weaker on a broom than either of the other chasers so she ran interference more often than she was passed the quaffle.

It was a fairly even match up with Cedric's team. Harry's beaters worked better together than Cedric's but Cedric had three good chasers to Harry's two.

In the end, it came down to the snitch. The score was fifty to ninety in Cedric's favor when Harry spotted the snitch. Cedric was on it a moment later. It was fluttering about only a foot or so off of the ground. It seemed to realize that it had been spotted because the snitch flew even lower so that its wings brushed the grass. When Cedric realized exactly how low the snitch was, he abruptly pulled up. Harry twisted his body and broom so that he sharply turned to run parallel to the ground at the last minute. His fingertips skimmed the grass as he reached out and plucked up the snitch.

When Cedric went to congratulate Harry afterwards, Harry merely said "Want to go again? It's light enough for one more game."

So they picked again. Harry kept Oliver Wood as keeper but Fred and George ended up on Cedric's team. Harry kept Wilhelmina Roper but Pucey and Percy chose not to play again and Harry chose not to pick Ashley McDougal again. Instead he picked a Ravenclaw second year who would be on his House team in a few years named Hamilton Brown, Jeremiah LeStrange, Brandon Lynch of Gryffindor, and an oddly fierce looking third year Hufflepuff girl named Stoke Brocklehurst.

Most of Harry's second team had never and would never play on a house team. Wilhelmina Roper, Hamilton Brown, and Brandon Lynch played chaser, Oliver Wood played keeper again, Jeremiah LeStrange and Stoke Brocklehurst were beaters, and Harry was seeker again. Most of Harry's second team had to use the school brooms. This time they lost even though Harry caught the snitch again.

Happy and sweaty the quidditch players and their watchers trooped back into the castle. After dinner, Padfoot played frisbee with the some of the muggleborns in Gryffindor while Harry sat huddled with Ron, Hermione, and Neville on the large rock by the lake.

"We've got a bit of a problem."

By the time Harry finished outlining the existence and location of the Sorcerer's Stone and the fact that Professor Quirrell was trying to get past Professor Dumbledore's security for Voldemort, not even Ron was excited. All three of the others suddenly looked so young and frightened to Harry. It was startling to realize that when he had sat them down, he had expected the to behave like his older friends would have: Ron determined and ready to go where he went, Hermione already planning and mapping out alternatives, and Neville who would do what was right no matter what. But this Ron, Hermione and Neville were all children. They were frightened and lost. They were followers looking for a leader rather than partners who would yell, argue, and do what needed to be done no matter what happened to him.

"Harry, this can't be!" Hermione exclaimed. "Professor Quirrell is a _teacher_! Professor Dumbledore never would've hired him if he was in league with You-Know-Who."

"Maybe Professor Dumbledore made a mistake" Neville said, unwaveringly loyal to Harry even at eleven. It was an echo of the man that he would one day be.

Harry's eyes stung.

'_Or maybe he did it on purpose_' Harry thought but did not say aloud. Instead he said, "Quirrell let a troll into the castle."

"He _found_ it in the dungeons" Hermione corrected.

"He _said_ he found it in the dungeons" Neville said. "He could just as easily have let it loose himself."

"The troll caused a panic" Harry continued. "Everyone was everywhere and no one noticed him trying to get into the corridor."

"He kept Snape from knocking you off of your broom!" Hermione argued.

"He jinxed my broom. Snape was performing the counter jinx."

"Snape swoops around like an overgrown bat" Ron protested. "Anyway he's vicious enough to be a Death Eater."

"Professor Snape is mean and nasty but _not_ a Death Eater!" Harry protested fiercely. "Don't you remember Hermione? You told me yourself that they were both glaring at me. You said that Professor Snape fell on Quirrell when you set him on fire. You stopped them both."

"Quirrell is afraid of his own shadow!" Ron exclaimed.

"He's pretending to be" Harry disagreed. "Dark wizards don't have signs around their neck."

"He wasn't even in Slytherin!"

"Peter Pettigrew was in Gryffindor and my dad's best friend. He's also a Death Eater."

"Are – Are you sure that You-Know-Who is on the back of Professor Quirrell's head?" Neville asked, his voice quavering. "Under the t-turban?"

"Positive. I've even heard them _talking_ to each other."

Because as much as Harry had changed things, that had happened before the point in the timeline that Harry had returned to. No matter what Harry did, Professor Quirrell was destined to become Professor Quirrelmort.

"What'll we do?" Ron asked, his eyes huge.

"Tell a teacher!" Hermione said stridently. "This isn't something that we can do alone!"

"No one is going to believe us" Harry said. "We'll have to get the Stone ourselves and put it somewhere safer."

"What's safer than being under Professor Dumbledore's protection?" Ron demanded in disbelief.

"I have a couple ideas."

"Let's tell Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore first" Hermione said firmly. "I'm sure that they'll take care of everything."

Harry waved at Padfoot. "We're off to see Professor McGonagall. See you in the Tower!"

The Gryffindor muggleborns waved back.

"We'll make sure to bring Padfoot back inside!" Dean shouted back.

So Harry followed his three friends as they trooped inside and up to Professor McGonagall's office. He listened to Hermione earnestly lay out their thoughts about Professor Quirrell and the Philosopher's Stone and Ron mutter about Professor Snape being even more shady. Professor McGonagall's reaction was not all that Hermione had hoped that it would be.

"Nonsense! The Stone is too well guarded for anyone to steal it. Now run along and don't bother Professor Dumbledore with this nonsense. Enjoy your holidays."

Once they were in the corridor, Harry led the other three first years to a dusty alcove.

"I still want to tell Professor Dumbledore" Hermione said immediately.

"He won't believe us."

"Even if you're right, Professor Quirrell wouldn't dare try to steal the Stone so long as Professor Dumbledore is about" said Ron.

"Professor Dumbledore doesn't know everything" Harry argued back even as he wracked his brains for the speech that he had given Ron and Hermione the first time around. "He makes mistakes. He isn't perfect."

Ah ha! Harry launched into the speech he had given Ron and Hermione about dying sooner or later under Voldemort. Ron, Hermione, and Neville seemed to find it just as moving this time around.

"All right, when are we going to do this?" Ron asked.

"We?"

"Of course! You'll never make it to the Stone without us" Hermione said grimly.

Harry ginned. His eyes slid to include all three of his friends. "No, I imagine that I wouldn't be able to do without you at all."


	13. Chapter 13

This is for fun, not profit. I have no right to the Harry Potter characters, franchise, or copyright.

Your thoughtful comments are super motivating! Thanks for them all!

* * *

The three of them waited until dinner time to sneak into the forbidden third floor corridor. Stepping into a confined space with Fluffy was as horrid the third time as it was the first time.

"Blood hell!" Ron yelped.

Hermione squeaked.

Neville silently clutched at Harry's sleeve.

Fluffy got over his surprise and started to growl.

"Ro – eugh!" Harry cleared his throat and tried again. "Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream."

His three friends looked at him like he was off his nut. The giant three-headed dog stopped growling. Harry shoved at Neville's shoulder.

"Gently down the stream" Neville said, his voice joining Harry's.

"Merrily merrily merrily merrily" Hermione joined in.

"Life is but a dream" Ron finally joined them.

They went through another three rounds before the dog finally settled down again. It took another seven rounds to lull him to sleep.

"Me first" Harry hissed as they hauled the trapdoor open. The other three were still singing.

Before anyone could argue, Harry dropped through the opening and landed on the deceptively comfortable plant. After a moment's thought, he stayed put and tried to ignore the tendril's creeping around his ankles. He only had moments before Ron, Hermione, and Neville joined him.

"Lucky this plant was here" Ron said.

"Lucky!" Hermione shrieked as she began flailing out of the Devil's Snare's tendrils. "It's got us!"

"What is this?" Ron shouted as he, Harry, and Neville began struggling.

"I don't know!" Hermione shouted.

At the same time Neville shouted, "Devil's Snare!"

"What do you know about it?" Harry demanded.

Safe next to Hermione, Neville shouted "It grows in dark, damp places and –"

"Sol parvus!" Harry snapped.

Instantly a small sun burst into being overhead. Its light and heat beat down mercilessly. The plant let go of him and Ron as it cringed away from the light and heat. The two boys stumbled into the corridor where Hermione and Neville were standing.

"Good job, Neville" Harry said. "Good thing you're brilliant at Herbology."

Neville pinked and ducked his head. "Hermione would've figured it out."

"Not before it ate us" Ron disagreed.

"You didn't use your wand" Hermione interrupted.

"It's just something that I've been working on."

"I thought that you were working on wordless wanded casting."

"I am. Worded, wandless magics are our little secret."

The key room was a lot more fun the second time around. Maybe it was the lack of urgency – after all, they were going first this time – or maybe it was just the simplicity of this task compared to the tasks he had undertaken during the last year of the war. Either way, Harry enjoyed catching the key.

He was careful not to crush it or crunch it against a wall or bend its wings this time. Harry had learned his lessons from the "Monster Book of Monsters" well. After he had a firm grip on the key, Harry gently stroked the length of its neck and its soft blue wings. Slowly the key settled into his grip.

The next room was the dreaded chess room. Ron was a black knight, Hermione was a black rook, Neville was a black bishop, and Harry was the black queen. Just like last time Ron sacrificed himself to win the game. Unlike last time, Neville was the one who put the white king in checkmate.

When they opened the door to the next room, Harry yelped and threw himself to the side. Hermione shrieked threw herself backwards into Neville. They tumbled to the floor as a spiked club smashed into the stones next to where Harry's head had been.

How had he forgotten about the troll?

"Incendio!"

The troll stumbled backwards, screaming and clawing at his burning hair. His club clattered to the floor.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Neville shouted as he stabbed his wand at the club. He levitated it up and over the troll's head before he suddenly ended the spell. The club slammed into the troll's skull. A moment later the troll crashed to the ground.

Harry waved his wand at the troll. A jet of water burst from the tip of it, putting the troll's hair out. He grinned at Neville.

"Great job Neville!" Neville turned pink again. He flashed them that shy, pleased smile.

The next room was Professor Snape's challenge. As soon as they stepped over the threshold, fire sprang up in front of both doorways. Despite himself Harry smiled. Professor Snape's flair for the dramatic struck again.

Neville groaned. "Potions!"

"Don't worry Neville" Hermione said. She probably meant to be consoling but it came out somewhat condescending when she added, "Harry and I are _good_ at potions."

Harry sighed. "It's not a potion's challenge. It's _logic_."

Neville and Harry shared a horrified look as Hermione squealed, "I _love_ logic games."

Even though Harry clearly remembered which bottle went backwards and which one went forward, he let Hermione puzzle it out again. Once again she pointed out the smallest bottle as the way forward. There were two swallows at most in there.

"Only two of us can go forward" Hermione said fretfully.

"Or one of us can go forward and come back" Harry said as he picked up the little bottle. "Wait ten minutes. If I'm not back drink the other bottle then go back and get Ron. Then go get Professor Dumbledore."

"Harry –"

"Trust me Hermione." Harry forced a smile. "Everything is going to be fine."

Hermione hesitantly nodded.

"Good luck Harry" Neville said solemnly. Harry smiled and nodded.

And with that Harry swallowed his first mouthful of potion. Ice flowed through his veins and black flames became his entire world. Then he was in the next room with a very familiar mirror.

"That evil, manipulative old bastard" Harry mumbled. "Aberforth was _right_."

Sadly, after a moment's thought Harry found that he was still rather fond of the old man.

Indulging himself, Harry gazed into the mirror. There inside was the Potter clan with his mum and dad in the center. Next to his dad were Sirius and Remus looking healthier and happier than he had ever seen either of them actually be in either timeline. Professor Snape stood next to his mum. His features were more relaxed than Harry had ever seen except for in those moments before Professor Snape died in the other timeline. He looked… happy, even content. And less greasy. Ron and Hermione and Neville and Ginny and Madeye Moody and Tonks with a little bundle of Teddy in her arms all appeared from behind a cluster of his Potter relatives. Tonks leaned into Remus' side and they both looked at Teddy and tickled him. Hedwig fluttered from somewhere overhead to land on his mum's shoulder. Fred and George and all the other Weasleys and everyone who had fallen at the last Battle of Hogwarts because they had believed in him and fought for him wandered out from behind a cluster of Evanses. Even Hagrid was there, standing at the very back of the crowd. Everyone in the reflection looked up to smile and wave at him.

Harry smiled and waved back.

It was tempting, so, so desperately tempting, to sit down and stare at them.

"Harry!" shouted Neville. "Harry! Are you okay?"

Harry tore his gaze away from the Mirror of Erised. "I'm fine Neville!"

"It's been ten minutes!"

"It's taking longer than I thought. Wait another five! I'm almost done!"

"Okay!"

Harry breathed deeply and fell back on his Occlumency lessons to clear his mind. Carefully he put all of his thoughts and feelings in the safest place he had ever been. Once his mind was calm, Harry focused on finding but not using the Stone.

Just like last time, his reflection slipped it into his pocket.

Grinning, Harry patted the familiar weight in his pocket then slipped back through the door and flames.

"Harry?" Neville asked, looking painfully happy to see him.

Harry grinned and patted the weight in his pocket. Neville slumped with relief.

"Where's Hermione?"

"After you shouted, she went back to check on Ron."

Harry nodded. "When you were waiting in here together did she explain the bottles to you?"

Neville nodded. "I didn't really understand it."

"Do you remember which ones were filled with nettle wine?"

Neville pointed out three bottles and, after thinking about the riddle a moment, Harry was pretty certain that he was right. Harry carefully topped off the empty little bottle in his hand with wine from the three bottles of nettle wine.

"Won't that just make whoever comes after us get burned up?"

"Exactly."

Neville gulped.

"It's Voldemort, Neville. Dumbledore will know how to make the flames part or something."

The other boy nodded. "I suppose."

Neville and Harry both swallowed mouthfuls of the other potion then Harry slammed the bottle back into place and made a mad dash through the flames as unnatural warmth pumped through his veins. The troll was still unconscious as they closed the troll room up again. Hermione was levitating Ron in the chess room.

"I don't think we'll have to play our way across again. And the white queen seemed to nod when I asked if they would reset themselves after we left. They'll probably be all set up when the next person comes through here."

All three of them trooped back to the key room where the proper key fluttered down to zip around Harry's head then flutter into the collar of his shirt. Harry grinned as he carefully caught the key and relocked the door. When he let it go, the key went back to his collar.

Harry shrugged at Neville and Hermione's stares.

"Why not?"

"Harry! If the key is gone, it'll be impossible for the next person to get through."

Harry grinned at Hermione as he softly stroked one finger along the length of the key nestled between the collar of his shirt and his neck. "Exactly."

At the Devil's Snare's room, Harry charmed another mini-sun into existence to keep the Devil's Snare back as he levitated a singing Hermione and Neville, and an unconscious Ron, back through the trapdoor. A few moments later, Hermione levitated him up after them.

Getting Ron checked into the hospital wing was much more difficult than getting out of the forbidden corridor.

"It was just an accident!" Harry protested as the school nurse tucked Harry into a bed. "The stairs moved unexpectedly and he fell and banged his head! That's it!"

"I'm sure" the nurse sniffed as she tucked his clothes away into his bedside table. At least the Philosopher's Stone and his key were still safely tucked away in his pockets. Hermione, in a nearby bed, stared at Harry over the nurse's shoulder with wide, anxious eyes.

Harry tried to look reassuring. "But we'll still make it out of here in time for Hermione and Neville to go home right?"

Madam Pomfrey sniffed again. "We'll see."

As soon as she left, Harry stuffed the Stone and his wand under his pillow.

"It'll be fine" Harry told Hermione and Neville. "No one knows what sort of mischief we've managed. And she'll let you out to go home to see your families."

Hermione and Neville nodded and fell asleep quickly. Harry had a harder time believing his reassurances. He lay awake in the dark, listening to his three friends' deep breathing. Across the room there was the soft creaking of the main doors opening.

Harry shot upright in his bed, wand clutched in one hand and Stone in the other. He peered across the room where a huge black grim stood in the doorway, outlined by ambient light. Harry relaxed. He tucked both items back under his pillow as the dog nudged the door shut. Harry listened to the click of the dog's nails on the flagstone floors as it padded closer. A moment of silence then the dog landed at the foot of Harry's bed.

"Sorry Sirius" Harry whispered. "We got into a bit of mischief on the way back from Professor McGonagall's office."

The dog rumbled warningly.

"It was sort of spur of the moment."

Sirius kept growling at him.

"It wasn't dangerous. No one will even know we did anything until the end of the year. Ron just banged his head. Madam Pomfrey's overreacting." Harry patted the spot beside him on the bed. "C'mon. I'll tell you all about it."

Padfoot finally stopped growling. He crawled up the length of the bed. Harry curled up next to him, one arm flung over the dog's back. He leaned close and whispered in the dog's ear about everything that had happened in the third floor corridor. He had just gotten to the part about Snape's logic puzzle when his eyes were much too heavy and his tongue seemed to become thick and before he knew it, Harry Potter was fast asleep.

Harry whimpered when the warm softness moved away. He reached and reached and –

"Urgh!" Harry scrambled back onto the bed. "Cold!"

There was a woof of doggy laughter then the hospital wing's doors creaked open to reveal Madam Pomfrey. She looked surprised to see Harry awake and sitting up.

"Mr. Potter, what are you doing up?"

"I fell out of bed" Harry admitted. "Are you going to let us out now?"

Thirty minutes later the four Gryffindors were sneaking a dog out of the hospital wing. Ten minutes after that Hermione and Neville were taking thestral-drawn carriages to the train station in Hogsmeade. As soon as most of the castle's inhabitants had finished clearing out to go home for the holidays, Padfoot changed back into Sirius.

"Harry…. About this…" Sirius said; every syllable was hesitant. He refused to meet Harry's eyes. Harry's heart clenched in his chest. "It might be better – for both of us really – if I go live somewhere else. I don't know if you – well – Do remember Remus from my stories?"

"Remus Lupin" Harry said unsteadily, uncertain if he was happy or terrified.

"Right. Well. We've been meeting up in London and – and it might be better if I moved in with him for a bit. The ministry isn't after me anymore, the Dementors have gone back to Azkaban, and – and I don' want you to just think of me as your dog!"

Harry blinked. Sirius took a deep, ragged breath.

"I don't mind. It's – It's nice to belong but – but Remus says it isn't healthy for either of us and – and I'd thought he was worrying over nothing but after last night – I'd rather be your godfather instead of just your dog. I want you to depend on me as a person." Sirius met Harry's eyes for the first time. The lines of his face were strained and his eyes were terribly blue as he said, "What do you think?"

Harry's first instinct was to argue and to shout. Of _course_ he wanted Sirius to stick around! How could he keep Sirius safe if Sirius was off living with Remus? Remus panicked and tried to run out on Tonks! And he didn't _listen_! Even after everything Harry had said, he and Tonks had run out and gotten themselves killed almost immediately after Teddy had been born! What part of 'families should stay together' did Remus misunderstand?

Harry took a couple of deep shuddering breathes and tried to think clearly.

There were probably no battles or veils at Remus' place. And he had meant to be some of what Sirius needed this time around. What did Sirius need? Sirius had spent almost his entire life at Grimmauld Place, Hogwarts, and Azkaban. And right now everything revolved around Harry's school schedule. Boredom and inactivity were bad for Sirius. That had been part of the problem when Dumbledore had shut Sirius away in Grimmauld Place. Sirius needed a life outside of Harry where he could do things. He needed challenges. And then he needed to be allowed to travel. The other Sirius from the other timeline had been happiest and sanest when he was on the run from the law. It was depressing but true. Sirius needed things that Harry could not give him. But maybe Remus could.

"There's nothing too dangerous at Remus' place right?" Harry asked anxiously. "No murderous curtains or death veils or axe murderers right?"

Some of the strain eased from Sirius' expression. He looked both relieved and hurt.

"No. Nothing like that. Just Remus and miles and miles of empty the moors."

Harry slowly nodded. "And there's no murderous furniture?"

Sirius' mouth quirked. "No."

"Can – Can I visit?"

"Of course."

Harry took another deep, shuddering breath of his own. "I don't want you to go." Some of the pain faded from Sirius' face. Had he really been worried that Harry didn't want him around? Or that Harry didn't care? "But Remus is probably right."

Sirius laughed weakly. "He's irritating like that." Sirius leaned forward and pulled Harry into a rough, tight hug. "We'll be around. I'll see you on Christmas and maybe we'll see about getting a house in the summer."

Harry nodded. But it was hard to let Sirius go.

The very first thing Harry did after escaping Madam Pomfrey's clutches was to stuff the Philosopher's Stone down one of Dudley's socks, knot the sock and it's mate together, and stuff the entire mess into his middle drawer. The lone knot of socks looked rather suspicious so Harry knotted another few pairs of socks together and stuffed them into that drawer along with all the rest of Dudley's castoffs. Satisfied, Harry closed the drawer then hissed the word to change the password.

"_**Shell Cottage."**_

Harry spent the next few days with Ron and his brothers or reading. After a particularly long and fierce snowball battle, Harry got hot chocolate with Ron and his brothers then headed back to his dormitory room. Ron spent the rest of the afternoon reading _Quidditch Through the Ages_ while Harry spent the rest of the afternoon looking through the Gringotts' estate papers. When he realized that each packet came with a family tree, Harry flipped to it in each packet. He carefully traced the thin, spidery lines of inheritance with a fingertip as he figured out how, and why, he had ended up as Heir to so many estates.

The Potter and Evans' trees were easy to follow but the others…

Harry's jaw dropped.

He traced the lines again with a trembling fingertip.

'_If this is right then –'_

"What the – is that thing one of your pranks?"

Harry gratefully looked up to see Percy standing in the doorway with Fred and George just behind him. Percy was swatting at the winged key. It fluttered teasingly just out of his reach. The twins were watching the key with bright, interested eyes.

"No."

"But it's brilliant!"

"Wish it was one –"

"– of ours."

"It's mine" Harry said as his hand darted out to carefully catch the key. Gently he petted its long neck and its soft blue wings.

"Well, keep it in your dormitory" Percy sniffed.

"Definitely!" Ron agreed a bit too enthusiastically.

Percy didn't seem to notice but the twins squinted suspiciously at first him then Harry.

Even with seven years over Ron and a minor interruption from the key, Harry still lost to his best mate at chess. Ron was brilliant when it came to chess.

'_And he's only going to get better_' Harry admitted gloomily to himself.

All of that time with Harry and just the Weasleys in the tower seemed to relax Ron. He did not even complain when, a couple of nights before Christmas Eve, Harry dressed to attend Cedric Diggory's party. It was his first social event ever. For that little bit of extra courage Harry dressed in his Gryffindor red over robe, a black under robe, and all of the horrifying layers Narcissa Malfoy swore were absolutely necessary for a formal event. Then he went to Professor McGonagall's office. He had already arranged to use her office for floo travel. It was safer than him jogging to and from the village after dark.

When she saw him her eyebrows jumped.

"It is good to see you using a proper channel of entrance and exit for once Mr. Potter" was all that Professor McGonagall said.

Harry fidgeted with the wand in his pocket. "Do I look alright?"

Professor McGonagall smiled softly. "Yes Mr. Potter. You will do very well at your engagement. Mr. Diggory's place I presume?"

Harry nodded as she held out a small tin of floo powder. The tin had some sort of tartan pattern on the outside. Harry took a pinch and tossed it into the fire. As the flames turned green, Harry shouted the location given in his invitation.

Harry turned and tumbled through the floo network until he landed flat on his back somewhere with a lovely white ceiling, some sort of delicate molding, and lovely blue walls.

Cedric's laughter washed over him. Harry could not remember if he had ever heard Cedric laugh like that in the original timeline. A moment later Cedric's roughed hand – quidditch and wand calluses – pulled Harry to his feet. Cedric looked genuinely happy to see Harry. Harry knew for a fact that Cedric had never looked at him like that before.

'_Changes_' Harry decided. '_Would you still like me so much if you knew that I'll never let you be a Triwizard Champion?_'

"Glad to see you Harry!"

Harry grinned. "Good to see you too."

He fished a small package out of his pocket and thrust it at Cedric. "I'm supposed to give that to… someone. I forget."

Cedric laughed. "I'll do." He took the package and shook it gently. "Sounds non alcoholic."

Harry grinned. "And breakable."

Cedric quickly stopped shaking it. "I'll just introduce you to my mum yeah?"

The party was more boring than the one Harry had attended at Grimmauld Place or Bill and Fleur's wedding. No one stumped around and showed him pictures of dead people. There were no gorgeous French tarts. And there was not a single redhead in the entire room. Mostly people wandered around and chatted with each other. Harry only had to endure a few minutes of Cedric's dad before Cedric whisked Harry away to the room where the other kids were.

Sometimes it was irritating for Harry to pretend to be eleven. Everyone else was irritatingly young and he felt like a bastard for manipulating them into long and happy lives. He loved them – how could he not? – but he was older than them and sometimes it showed. But on this particular night Harry did not mind being eleven. He played it to the hilt. After all no one expected perfect behavior from an eleven year old. Well, except maybe Cedric's dad who seemed to have it out for Harry, even this early in the timeline. Luckily Cedric was friendly and amusing.

As the night wore on, more and more Hogwarts students arrived. There was a definite skewing of boys versus girls. Aside from Harry and Cedric's two best mates, most of the guys there had sisters that were also in attendance. Nancy Moon, Tracy Davis, the Brocklehurst sisters, Daphne and her sisters were all there and as pretty as silken, perfumed flowers. Kevin Larkins and his little sister Abigail were there too. She and Kevin both had nondescript brown hair and large dark eyes that seemed to spark with intelligence. They were more prim and proper in their attire. All of the third, fourth, and fifth year Hufflepuffs were present as were Ernie and Susan. And a very young Luna Lovegood complete with radish earrings and bottle cap necklace.

"Harry!" she called as soon as she caught sight of him.

Harry blinked. "Luna?"

Luna's pale face lit up. A moment later, Harry had his arms filled with a squirming ten year-old. Automatically he hugged her back because she was, well, Luna. How could he not?

"Harry! I'm so glad to see you! When I woke up, I couldn't quite remember how it had happened. I was worried that the Greater Purple Snarps had gotten you too. You know they like fresh brains best!"

Harry grinned. "Even if they caught me, there wouldn't be much for them to feast on."

Luna laughed and released him. "Did you hear about Stubby Boardman? He's free and pardoned this go around."

"Yeah. Want me to introduce you to him?"

Luna bobbled her head, her smile bright. "I think I'd like that."

Thanks to Draco and Mrs. Malfoy, Harry knew which pieces of silverware to use. Luna was there to make him laugh. Stoke and Cedric was there to talk quidditch with. Daphne alternately entertained him and chased her sisters about. It was far from the worst party he had ever been to even if the Larkins siblings were never far from him but never said much to him either.

When Harry got back to Gryffindor Tower, Ron was sleeping on the couch and Fred and George were tiredly playing exploding snap.

"How was the party?" George asked in an undertone.

"Okay. More boring than I expected. Nothing exploded. And I had to use a cooling charm to keep from sweating like a pig in all of these layers."

"So we're still you're favorites?" Fred teased as Harry transfigured a chair into a thick blanket to drape over Ron.

"'Course you are."

The twins looked inexplicably relieved. It was… odd.

On the twenty-second of December Harry got dressed in his formal robes again, this time the blue ones. This time he knew to cast the cooling charm on his clothes before he went anywhere and nervously checked to make sure that his little package and his wand were in his pocket. Then he went to Professor McGonagall's office and flooed to the Larkins' place.

Harry very clearly remembered going through the fireplace face first. So he was shocked when, after a dizzying series of fireplaces and brickwork, he landed flat on his back.

Harry groaned. He opened his eyes to see Dagwood Larkins' leaning over him. Dagwood quickly swallowed his grin.

Harry grinned back at him anyway. "What's your floor made out of?"

"Marble."

"It's hard. And cold."

Harry fished the little package, identical in size and shape to the one that he given to Cedric, out of his pocket. Where Cedric's had been wrapped in yellow paper with little green snitches zooming around on it, this package was wrapped in dark green paper with little burst of light on it that looked a lot like spells being cast in the dark.

"Here. Tell your mum and dad that I said something flowery yet appropriate."

Larkins laughed as he took the present with one hand and hauled Harry to his feet with the other.

"I'm glad you could make it."

The Larkins' party was duller and yet more interesting than even Cedric's shindig. Everyone was more prim and proper and boring. Even people that he knew like Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, and Jeremiah LeStrange, were more boring and restrained in the presence of their parents. But it was more interesting because some of them were people Harry had never met in either timeline and most of them were people he had only met across drawn wands. Those people were both harder and easier to face. Harder because certain movements, gestures, and tones made him tense up. Easier because he _knew_ about them and knowledge was power. It was a weapon even, when used properly.

Luckily, he was eleven and could pass any weird behaviors off as childish nervousness. His intent gaze, his mind whirling as he tried to remember everything, was passed off as childish awe.

Draco was strange and distant and snotty. Lucius Malfoy looked between Harry and Draco with a certain, calculating gleam but Narcissa Malfoy pretended not to notice either her husband or her son. Instead she asked Harry to dance.

Harry had never been so desperately grateful for Draco Malfoy's influence in his life. He said as much to Narcissa Malfoy as he spun her around the dance floor.

"Is that so?" she asked with one elegantly raised eyebrow. "Then what are you silly boys feuding over?"

Harry blinked. "I didn't know we were feuding. Draco's been a bit cross lately but I just thought it would blow over."

Narcissa Malfoy laughed. "Your House is showing, dear. Nothing ever just 'blows over' in Slytherin House."

"Oh. Maybe I'll ask him about it then."

"That might be a good idea, darling."

Harry barely had a moment to himself and his observations after that. Mrs. Malfoy opened a floodgate of invitations. He spent the rest of the night whirling around the dance floor with a teasing Daphne, a blushing Abigail, and so many others that Harry lost count.

When Harry dragged himself through the portrait hole, the Weasleys were waiting for him again. A bleary-eyed Percy was losing to Ron while the twins whispered at a nearby table. All four of them looked up.

"Thank Merlin" Percy groaned as he tipped his king over.

"Well?" demanded Fred. "How was it?"

"Boring. And they made me dance." Harry flopped into a nearby chair. "Mrs. Malfoy seems to think Draco is feuding with me."

"Yeah?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Mmm. I'll ask him about it after the holidays."

Ron drooped a bit. "It's good to have you home, mate."

Harry grinned sleepily at him. By then Percy had cleaned up his chess pieces and gone to bed.

"Want to get some hot chocolate before bed?"

Ron brightened. "Yeah!"

On Christmas morning Harry got a flute from Hagrid, a note from his relatives that read 'We got your message and signed the solicitor's papers. Don't come back this summer' with a fifty pence piece taped to it, a emerald green knitted sweater and fudge from the Weasleys, a very interesting looking Defense Against the Dark Arts book from Hermione called "One Thousand and One Defensive Charms", a box of chocolate frogs from Daphne Greengrass, a slightly ominous looking Defense Against the Dark Arts book from Theodore Nott called "Defending Yourself with One Thousand and One Hexes", a different and slightly more vicious looking Defense Against the Dark Arts book from Jeremiah LeStrange called "Defending Yourself with One Thousand and One Curses", a "Quidditch Through the Ages" book from Neville, a box of cauldron cakes from Cedric Diggory, and a box of sugar quills from the Larkins siblings. He also got a ton of cards from various friendly acquaintances in the other houses.

Harry was suddenly grateful for all of those orders that he had placed with Hedwig and all of the Christmas cards that he had sent with her. He put on his Weasley sweater, played his flute, gave Ron the fifty pence piece, and tried not to think about why there weren't any presents from Remus or Sirius in the pile while he sampled his sweets.

When the twins dragged everyone down for Christmas dinner, Harry shouted for joy. Sitting in front of the fire were two familiar, beloved forms. Remus and Sirius! Harry darted forward for hugs while Percy shouted at him to stay away and Ron shouted at Percy that they were Harry's family.

Sirius pulled Harry into a quick, tight hug then passed him off to Remus who hugged him more tentatively but just as fiercely. Harry hugged Remus back. _Hard_.

Remus startled but hugged Harry a bit more firmly.

Then Harry stood back to look them over. Remus looked as shabby and worn as ever but he seemed happier if slightly more tentative than the first time Harry had met him on the train. Sirius looked better too, with his hair cut, his face shaved, and dressed in a smart new robe that fit.

"Harry, this is Remus Lupin."

Harry nodded. "It's nice to meet you."

"Hello Harry."

"D'you mind if we join you for dinner?"

Harry beamed. "That would be great!"

As the two older men joined Harry and the Weasleys, Sirius poked Harry's sweater.

"This is new."

"It's my new Weasley jumper!" Harry said proudly.

Sirius laughed. "How come it doesn't have your initial on the front?"

"Mrs. Weasley actually expects me to remember my name."

When they reached the Great Hall, Harry made a point of inviting the kids in the other Houses to join them at the Gryffindor table. When Harry invited the seven kids at the Slytherin table, he saw Sirius startle and frown. Remus promptly elbowed him.

All four Houses ended up eating Christmas dinner at the Gryffindor table. It was as glorious as Harry remembered it being the first time. It might have been even more glorious since Harry had his favorite family, his favorite werewolf, his favorite dogfather and his favorite dessert all together at one of the Hogwarts tables.

Professor Snape stared at them as balefully as any basilisk.

After Christmas dinner, there was a rollicking snowball fight – Remus, Sirius, and Harry versus the Weasley brothers. There was a lot of magical cheating on both sides and everyone ended up half frozen and laughing. Several drying charms and cups of hot chocolate later, it was time for REmus and Sirius to go.

When they hugged at the gates, Sirius slipped Harry a familiar rectangular parcel wrapped in familiar brown paper. Just before they left, literally before they walked out of the gates, Remus awkwardly passed Harry a brightly wrapped package. Harry grinned.

"Thanks."

The two Marauders waved and disappeared into the night.

Later that night, when Harry was alone in his bed with the curtains drawn and Ron was softly snoring in the next bed, Harry opened the little parcel first. It was that damn mirror. Harry carefully put it on his bedside table. He considered putting it under his pillow but had visions of accidently knocking it on the floor and shattering it into a million pieces. Then he turned his attention to the joint present from Remus and Sirius. It was that Defense Against the Dark Arts set of books that they had gotten him that first Christmas at Grimmauld Place. Apparently they were a brilliant resource regardless of the timeline he was in.

Harry smiled softly as he traced the spine of one of his familiar beloveds. Books were generally more Hermione's thing but _these_ books… _these_ books were especially brilliant.

On Boxing Day Professor Snape materialized at Harry's elbow. Harry, who had been chatting with a couple of Ravenclaw seventh years, suddenly found himself alone and staring up at the dreaded Potions Master. For his part Professor Snape stared down at Harry intently, as if he had never seen Harry before. And maybe he was seeing Harry for the first time. Slowly Professor Snape's upper lip curled into a sneer before he swept away in a swirl of black material.

Harry slowly grinned. "Looks like all those Christmas cards were worthwhile after all."


	14. Chapter 14

I hold no rights within or to the Harry Potter franchise, copyright, trademark, or characters. This is for fun, not profit.

* * *

The day after Boxing Day Harry flooed to Daphne Greengrass' family home. Luckily there was someone standing close enough to cushion his fall. Harry peeled himself off of the ivory robes just in time to see Lucius Malfoy whirl around.

"Eh heh. Sorry."

"Mr. Potter. My son informs me that you are the youngest seeker in a century. Where is your fabled grace and balance?"

"The floo system hates me!"

It seemed like a much better argument in his head.

Lucius Malfoy actually smirked at him in a mostly nice way!

"Ignore my husband, Harry. He's perturbed by your lack of response to our invitation."

Harry stared at his cousin's thin smile. "What invitation?"

Next to her Lucius Malfoy looked anything but concerned about a lost social engagement.

"The one Draco issued!" Narcissa said, irritation lining her voice.

"I know you mentioned one when we went robe shopping" Harry said carefully. Lucius' eyebrows arched as he glanced at his wife. "But Draco never actually gave me one. I assumed that you'd changed your mind."

Harry saw a glimpse of Narcissa Malfoy compressing her lips into a tight, displeased line before Daphne's voice interrupted.

"Harry!" The blond girl threw her arms around Harry's neck as she squealed in his ear. "I'm so glad that you made it!"

Harry winced. "Hey Daphne. If you let go, I'll give you your gift."

She pulled back, her loose hair making a golden halo around her head. That golden halo conveniently hid her smirk and wink from the Malfoy adults.

"You're so sweet!" she cooed as Harry deposited a box in her hands. It was as small as the ones that he had presented his other hosts. This one had red paper with little daffodils blooming on it. Daphne's face softened as she gently touched a flower. "My favorite."

Harry grinned. "I know. You said so during your introduction in Herbology."

"I have Herbology with Ravenclaw."

"And I know a Ravenclaw in your class."

Her face lit with sudden understanding. "Hamilton Brown. That's why you picked him for your quidditch team."

"Mostly because he's going to be a great chaser. He'll make his house team next year if he tries out."

Daphne swatted at Harry but her smile was dazzling. She turned back to the Malfoys.

"May I borrow Harry?"

"Of course, dear" Mrs. Malfoy demurred.

But her eyes were sharp and she looked very much as if she had something further to say to Harry. Daphne was oblivious as she absently tucked her arm into Harry's exactly the same way that she had at the Sorting Feast. Her eyes were firmly fixed on the gift in her other hand. Unlike Cedric or Dagwood Larkins, she cradled it like she already knew how delicate his gift actually was. Lucius' gaze sharpened as Harry moved his hands and arms accommodatingly. Harry just grinned and inclined his head to Mr. Malfoy as Daphne led him away.

His grin died an abrupt and horrible death as he was introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass.

"Mummy, Daddy, this is _Harry._"

Daphne's emphasis on his name worried Harry. He liked her well enough and if he was actually eleven or even thirteen, it would be quite exciting. But right at that moment Harry was acutely aware that he was mostly eighteen, Daphne was currently eleven, and that he had no desire to be some sort of pervert. He knew for a fact that she would grow up to be drop dead gorgeous but right now she was a sweet, if somewhat naughty, little girl.

Daphne's party was dull and yet somehow interesting. Everyone was just as prim, proper and boring. Daphne kept shooting Harry considering looks that made him uncomfortable and nervous. There were still a few faces and wands that he recognized but most of the people at Daphne's party were unfamiliar to Harry. The Greengrasses seemed to mingle mostly with the moderate Slytherins who abstained from joining either side in Harry's original timeline. It was hard to be properly wary when every girl fifth year and under insisted on dancing with him. It was sort of bewildering since Harry distinctly remembered those etiquette lessons, which Draco and now Theodore and Daphne in his place kept dragging him to, seemed to imply that guys were supposed to ask girls to dance. Draco, despite being locked in the same dozen rooms as Harry, still managed to maintain his snotty brat persona. He was still mad about… whatever he was mad about.

When Harry got back to Gryffindor Tower, Ron was sleeping on the couch in the darkened common room again. Fred and George were playing exploding snap with Percy.

"All right there Harry?" Fred asked.

Harry nodded. "Just tired. I have one more party. Next year, I'm definitely leaving town at Christmas."

Percy snorted. The twins tiredly smiled and nodded.

The next night Harry dressed in his last set of dress robes, pocketed his last present, and went to Professor McGonagall's office. She was waiting for him along with Professors Dumbledore and Snape. The corners of her mouth were tight and Professor Dumbledore seemed unusually serious.

"You do not have to attend Mr. LeStrange's celebration, Mr. Potter."

Harry blinked at his Head of House. "I told Jeremiah LeStrange that I would."

"She's trying to tell you that you may not attend Mr. LeStrange's gathering, you moronic child."

For Professor Snape, that was positively kind. Harry glared anyway for the sheer principle of the matter. He made sure to include the Gryffindor professors though.

"I'll go if I want to. No one has the right to tell me what to do."

"Mr. Potter" Professor Dumbledore began. "We are only considering your best interests and –"

"On what basis?"

"Pardon?"

"On what basis? I'm a legal and magical adult. You were _never_ my legal guardian." Harry flicked his wand in a silent Summoning charm. When the tartan tin slapped into his hand, Harry put his wand away. "I think that I am in the best position to determine what is in my best interests. And right now, I've determined that to involve a friendship with Jeremiah LeStrange."

As Harry helped himself to a pinch of floo powder he eyed Professor Snape's robes. They were as dark and severe as ever but the fabric seemed heavier and more expensive. He was probably going to the LeStrange New Year's party too then.

"Under the authority of being in loco parentis, I could forbid you to go" Professor Dumbledore said mildly as he peered at Harry over his half-moon spectacles.

It sent an uncomfortable squirming feeling through Harry's stomach. When he had fully been eleven that look had been terrifying. It was the look that he had always imagined preceded expulsion. Now it was merely uncomfortable with the feeling of memories past.

Harry concentrated on holding the tin out to Professor Snape as an excuse to avoid the adults' eyes.

"I'm sure you would have a wonderful time explaining to my solicitor why the Larkinses, Greengrasses, and Diggorys were acceptable to visit but the LeStranges were not."

"Mr. Potter!" Professor McGonagall gasped. "Surely you would not take such drastic measures!"

Harrry _did_ meet her eyes. She was the only non-legimens in the room after all.

"I find it irritating that someone who thought it appropriate to allow my relatives to beat me, starve me, and lock me in a boot cupboard for ten years would also believe that he has any right to tell me what to do." As Professor McGonagall paled, Harry added with deliberate carelessness "Also Jeremiah LeStrange has yet to actually, actively steal from me either. Professor Dumbledore has abused both my trust and respect. Jeremiah LeStrange has not."

And with that parting shot, Harry slid the tartan tin onto the professor's desk then moved to toss the floo powder into the fireplace. The last thing Harry saw as he spun away in the green flames was Professor McGonagall's pale, strained expression and her oddly haunted eyes.

The next thing Harry saw was white, streaked with black and the feeling of cool stone pressed against one cheek. LeStrange's laughter echoed in his ears.

"I hate floo travel" Harry grumbled as he levered himself upright.

LeStrange solicitously grabbed an arm to help haul him upright.

"You're late." LeStrange frowned at Harry. "You weren't late to anyone else's place."

Harry stared at the older boy. "Does it matter? I didn't mean to be. The Headmaster was being… odd."

Jeremiah LeStrange frowned. "Odd? You mean he didn't want you to come."

Harry shrugged. "What does it matter? I like you and trust you and respect you. I came to your party like I said that I would."

Jeremiah LeStrange was staring at Harry oddly. He nodded but his expression was distant as if he was thinking of something else entirely.

"We're still good right?" Harry asked anxiously, cursing Professor Dumbledore for threatening his Slytherin friendships so soon.

Jeremiah seemed to shake off his odd look and seemed to come back from wherever his thoughts had gone.

"Yeah. 'Course we are. I just… no one goes against Professor Dumbledore."

"I do" Harry said firmly. "He has no right to decide who my friends'll be."

Jeremiah stared at Harry for a long beat then nodded. "Welcome to my family home."

Harry blinked at the sudden change in topic but shrugged and fished his gift out. As he handed it to Jeremiah, he said "Thank you for inviting me."

This package, which was identical to the previous gifts in size and shape, was wrapped in red paper with little golden snitches zooming through doorways that appeared out of nowhere and either opened or closed. Harry supposed that the wrapping paper's enchanter was playing on Janus and the beginning of the New Year while playing to the quidditch mania that threaded throughout Wizarding society. Still, it matched Harry's views on his possible friendship with LeStrange perfectly.

This party was… different from the other parties. For one thing he could not help but notice that Professor Snape was the only half-blood in attendance. For another, Harry always seemed to have Theodore Nott or Jeremiah LeStrange or even Dagwood Larkins at his elbow. Harry was consciously aware that he was never entirely out of Professor Snape's or Mrs. Malfoy's views. Honestly, all of the babysitting was more comforting than anything else. After all he distinctly remembered hexing or cursing most of the party's invitees at one point or other during the war. In a place and time when Ron, Hermione, or the DA were not available to watch his back, it was nice to know that at least five people were worried about him. Even if the five people watching over him were the last five people he would have ever imagined caring for his welfare.

With Nott, Larkins, or LeStrange in attendance, Harry begged off of dancing. Instead he focused on sounding vaguely sane and rational and like a far better prospect than serving a mad snake-man. That last goal might have been a bit unachievable but Harry found that he could not quite shake the memory of Malfoy crying in a loo in sixth year. If Malfoy had someone, anyone, to go to for help that year would he have fixed that bloody vanishing cabinet? Harry liked to think the answer was 'No.' If even one person here remembered him as someone that they could come to for help, then this evening might be worth the trouble that it was certain to garner with Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall.

Being eleven, however, was something of a handicap on that goal.

When it was time to go, Professor Snape laid a hand on Harry's shoulder as Harry waited his turn with Jeremiah LeStrange and the Larkins family for his turn at the only fireplace that was attached to the floo network.

"Have you said your goodbyes?"

Harry nodded. "Yes sir."

That was all of the warning he had before he felt the singularly unpleasant sensation of being sucked through a straw backwards. With a crack of sound he reappeared with Professor Snape just outside of Hogsmeade. Immediately wary, Harry shrugged Professor Snape's hand off and scrambled away. He lit his wand tip with a silent spell even as he pointed at the man who may or may not have been the potions professor.

Holding the professor at wandpoint, Harry asked "Who nearly fed you to a werewolf your sixth year?"

The professor's long, sallow face turned chalky. His lips peeled back from his teeth in a silent snarl.

"Potter! Cease this foolishness at once."

A wave of his hand sent a magical tug at Harry's wand. Harry, who had been subjected to such tactics before, held onto his wand grimly.

"Professor, I've just been apparated away from a gathering of people who did not like me very much by someone who may or may not be my Potions Master."

One eyebrow rose. "If you knew that you would be keeping such company, why would you bother to attend?"

"I'm afraid that I must insist that you answer the question first, Professor. I'd hate to tell my secrets to an enemy."

The professor's lips pursed and his eyes narrowed.

"Sirius Black" he spat at last.

Harry nodded and immediately lowered his wand. He did not put the light out however.

"I like Jeremiah LeStrange. I like a lot of the Slytherins at school. I think that they should have options."

It was the most honest, straightforward thing Harry had ever said to Professor Snape in either timeline.

Harry watched as the Professor's irritation disappeared behind a blank mask. It was nice to surprise Snape in some way that didn't leave them both screaming and raging.

"Options, Potter?"

Harry nodded. "I'm not blind. Even Professor Dumbledore actively dislikes Slytherin House. People keep going on and on about how most of the Death Eaters were Slytherins but, well, they didn't really have a choice did they? Not about what side they were going to join, I mean. Voldemort was the only one who would take them."

"I fail to see what any of that conjecture has to do with you" Snape said as he began to slowly walk towards the castle. Harry fell into step with him, easily keeping up despite his shorter legs. Professor Snape must have been adjusting his gait.

"There's another war coming, isn't there Professor?"

Professor Snape actually startled. "Explain yourself!"

"Professor Quirrell has been possessed by Voldemort. That's what's under his turban. That's why he tried to kill me at the quidditch match. And that's why he let the troll into the castle. He wants whatever is in the third floor corridor to bring his master back to life properly. If Voldemort gets another body then there will be another war."

"Potter –"

"I haven't told anyone! Well, I told Ron, Hermione and Neville that you weren't trying to kill me and that you're not after whatever is in the third floor corridor. They don't believe me though. They're even being extra nice to Quirrelmort. It's a bit hard to get them to see that the world isn't divided up into nice people and Death Eaters."

'_But it's a hard lesson_' Harry acknowledged to himself. '_It took me most of my time at Hogwarts to realize that_.'

"You believe that I am not a Death Eater out to kill you?"

There was the strangest inflection in Professor Snape's tone. It was one that Harry had never heard before in either lifetime. But then he had never had even a semi-civil conversation with the potions master before.

"I think that you're the only one who really wants to see me grow up."

Professor Snape actually grimaced at that. Being seen as the sole protector of James Potter's son must have been galling to him.

"Professor Dumbledore cares for all of his students."

Bitterness laced his words and detracted from the sincerity the man meant to convey.

Harry understood Professor Snape's sentiments perfectly.

"Except for the Slytherins. Or anyone who isn't part of what he sees as the greater good."

There was a suspiciously long beat where Professor Snape did not argue with Harry's words. They walked in silence for a long while.

"So you _are_ recruiting."

"I'm giving people options" Harry said firmly. "Jeremiah LeStrange and Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy shouldn't have to get ugly tattoos or swear allegiance to a madman or suffer crucio because Dumbledore and Voldemort are angry about things that have nothing to do with them. Not really. And the Wizarding World seems to be blaming every Slytherin ever for their madness and selfishness. If I don't believe that Jeremiah LeStrange doesn't have to be Bellatrix or Rastaban or Rodolphus Lestrange, then no one else will. He'll have to be a Death Eater. And I really do like LeStrange too much to just _let_ him ruin his life."

Professor Snape made a harsh, ugly sound. After a moment, Harry realized that it was supposed to be a laugh.

"Why are you telling me this, Potter?"

"Because you asked." Harry hesitated a moment then, marshalling his Gryffindor bravery, added "And because you deserve options too, Professor."

Professor Snape's head snapped up. He stared at Harry with wide black eyes for a moment before his eyes narrowed again. Then he looked away.

The rest of the walk up to the castle was long and silent.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy had been angry and hurt over her young cousin's rejection… until it turned out not to be his manners at fault but rather Draco's which was completely unacceptable. Days after the fact, however, she still failed to understand exactly what Draco thought he was doing by keeping Harry's invitation back. Harry was his cousin! His friend! Surely Draco had not been worried about being rejected? Harry had accepted party invitations from everyone that he was on even moderately good terms with. He had even attended the Diggorys' party. The Diggorys! Amos Diggory was the most boring, pretentious fool she had been forced to regularly interact with in years. And he had even gone so far as to set foot into the LeStranges' Manor! And he had been cheerful about it! _She_ would not have attended but for her sister's marriage into the family.

So when she finally asked Draco over breakfast why he had not invited his cousin to their party, she had been quite shocked when Draco literally had a fit.

"Why is it always about Harry?" he raged, his face red and his cheeks wet with his tears. "Everybody always worries about Harry!"

"Should I be worried about you?" Narcissa asked.

"That's not the point!" Draco shouted. "Everybody constantly hangs all over Harry bloody Potter! Everybody likes him! He's friends with everybody! He'd even be friends with Pansy and Blaise if they let him! But he's supposed to be _my friend_!"

'_Oh! Poor dear. Harry is popular and my Darling is __**jealous**__! And not, apparently, of Harry's influence – as any good Slytherin would be – but rather of having to share Harry himself!_'

The violence of his emotions was oddly reminiscent of Bellatrix's jealousy over Andromeda.

Narcissa suppressed a shiver.

"Has he in any way implied he was not your friend, too, Draco?"

"That's not the point!" Draco growled. "Friendship with Potter is so _common_! I'm a Malfoy and we're not _common_! So I thought I'd let Potter be my best friend but he's already best friends with a Weasley, a mudblood, and the most disastrous boy in our year! I'm not competing with _them_ to be best friends with Harry Potter!"

'_Oh no. No no no_.'

"What have you decided then, Draco?" Narcissa asked carefully.

"He's going to be my rival" Draco said, his nose titled up at a most endearing angle. It did nothing for the lump of dread in Narcissa's stomach. "We are no longer friends."

"Does Harry know yet?"

"No. That impossible moron insists on hanging about as if we're still intimate acquaintances."

Narcissa swayed with relief. Harry, at least, had not given up yet on Draco's friendship. How could she possibly influence this turn of events?

Draco's eyes drifted to his watch then widened with alarm.

"It's late!" He said, rising. "And I haven't written in my journal yet."

Narcissa covered her surprise with a languorous blink of her eyelids.

"Your journal? I was not aware that you kept one."

"I started last Christmas." Draco said before he leaned down to kiss Narcissa' cheek. His expression darkened. "I'll need someone to confide in since Potter and I aren't _friends_ anymore."

Narcissa felt the oddest prickling of foreboding shiver up her spine as Draco pushed his scowl away to smile at her tenderly.

"Good night, Mother."

"Good night, my Darling."

As soon as Draco was out of the room, Narcissa rose to go in search of her husband. But when she confided her disquiet to Lucius, her husband merely smiled indulgently.

"Boys will be boys. Let them work it out on their own, Narcissa." He kissed the corner of her frowning mouth. "You cannot force Draco to be friends with the Potter boy."

"But Lucius, something is not _right_!"

"Our son is nearly a teenager. I imagine that things will be _not right_ for some time to come."

But Narcissa was fairly certain that Draco's impending teenage years had very little to do with whatever was _not right_.

'_I'll simply have to be vigilant_' she thought resolutely even as she let her body relax against Lucius' own. '_Then I will be properly poised to sort it out – whatever it is_.'


	15. Chapter 15

I have no rights within or to the Harry Potter franchise, copyright, trademark, or characters. This is for fun, not profit. (And some of you are alarmingly good guessers!)

* * *

"So what'd everyone do over their Christmas holidays?"

It was the sort of conversational opening that drew everyone in, even Nancy Moon, Tracy Davis, and Millicent Bulstrode. Halfway through it, Draco Malfoy coldly excused himself. Harry narrowed his eyes but all he said was, "You have Herbology before lunch tomorrow, right?"

When dessert on their third day back at school rolled around, Draco was still distracted and distant but Nott edged over for him. Harry snatched a blackberry tart with a scowl as he flopped between Nott and Nancy Moon.

"He's an evil old man to withhold treacle like this."

Nott laughed. "Good to see you too."

Draco glared at Harry then stood. "Excuse me."

He stalked out of the Great Hall.

Harry frowned after him. "Has he mentioned what he's angry about?"

Nott shook his head. "You could just ask."

"I did. Several times. When I cornered him after you got out of Herbology, he pretended like I wasn't there."

Nott rolled his eyes. "I'll see what I can find out."

Harry nodded. "Thanks."

Between his current coursework, quidditch practice, the prank competition with the twins, slowly working his way through his sixth year coursework, and his private interests in blood magic (he had yet to see if his mother had left her books on the topic in the Potter vaults), occlumency and legilmency (which he needed a partner to really advance beyond his current level in) and his duties to his many estates (slogging though pages and pages of tiny spidery handwriting), Harry soon forgot to be worried about Draco's odd behavior. When Nott asked him why he was not still worried about the rift with Draco, Harry shrugged.

"It'll work itself out" Harry explained around a bite of lemon tart. "It's _Draco Malfoy_. Sooner or later he'll get so wound up that he'll have to shout at me or try to hex me. Then I'll know all about it."

Nott looked dubious but shrugged even as Jeremiah LeStrange leaned over the table to pass Harry a rolled up bit of parchment.

"My school schedule is already on there" he said. "Put yours in and we'll see what times we have in common."

Harry nodded and penned in his classes, quidditch practices, and detentions with Professor Snape as he chatted with Theodore, Daphne, and, oddly, Nancy Moon about their classes. Daphne Greengrass had brought Moon into the conversation with a quick reference to Moon's skill in Transfiguration. When he passed the completed schedule back to Jeremiah Lestrange, the prefect's eyebrows jumped.

"How long do you have detention with Professor Snape?"

"Until the end of the year." At Jeremiah's look, Harry shrugged. "I apologized to him."

"Apologized?" Jeremiah's eyes narrowed. "For what?"

"Some of the other Gryffindors thought he cursed my broom in the Slytherin and Gryffindor match."

"He didn't!" Nancy Moon snapped hotly.

"Of course he didn't" Jeremiah said sharply.

Harry shrugged as he mildly interjected, "I know that. That's why I apologized to him."

"But…" Theodore prompted.

"But I wouldn't tell him who the other Gryffindors were."

No one but Nancy looked surprised.

"And what did those other Gryffindors do?" Jeremiah asked shrewdly.

"They might've set Professor Snape's robes on fire." That did earn exclamations of surprise and outrage from his listeners. "Luckily for me he fell on the person who was actually cursing my broom."

Jeremiah sat back. "He's not going to let you off then."

Harry nodded. "He'll probably let you borrow me though."

Jeremiah shot Harry a sharp look but nodded back. "I'll see what sort of deal I can work out with him tomorrow then."

"I'll ask the house elves if they'll set up a practice room for us then" Harry promised as he helped himself to a ginger snap.

During the next evening's detention Professor Snape glared at Harry with more vitriol than he had directed at Harry since before Christmas. At least LeStrange had not managed to speak with Professor Snape before Harry's afternoon Potions' lesson.

"Start by pasting those leeches."

Harry grimaced. "Yes sir."

Harry did not have to wait long for Professor Snape's opening sally.

"Just like a Potter to rely on his celebrity status to avoid his obligations."

"I didn't ask LeStrange to try to get me out of detention."

"But you suggested that I let you spend it with him instead."

Harry shrugged, careful to keep his eyes focused on the pestle and his work.

"Quirrell's a joke. None of the fifth years are going to pass their O.W.L.s without help."

"Help which only _you _can provide," Professor Snape sneered.

"Help which only I'm offering, Professor" Harry replied easily.

"What makes you think you're qualified?"

"Apparently I hold the record high score for the Defense O.W.L.s, sir."

Harry did not look up but had the sudden sense of Professor Snape abruptly going still.

"Is that so, Potter?"

Harry nodded. "Yes sir" he said, careful as to his tone and method of address.

"And you're willing to share your… expertise… with Slytherin House."

Harry stopped working and looked up. "Yes sir."

He made the mistake of catching Professor Snape's eyes with his own as he spoke. And in that moment, Professor Snape struck.

Harry gasped and staggered, the pestle falling out of his slack grip.

Harry swapping schedules with LeStrange… offering to tutor LeStrange at the beginning of the year, long before Professor Snape inflicted his year's worth of detentions… talking to Snape on the way back from the LeStrange party…marveling over their only civil conversation in either timeline…

Panicked, Harry marshaled his scanty defenses. As Snape followed the line of Harry's thoughts, Harry tried to remember stupid, unimportant memories rather than whatever Snape was looking for.

…Harry's original first day in Potions' class ending in point loss rather than detention… Snape mocking Hermione's teeth … Snape catching Harry and Ron peering in the window and talking about him after they crashed into the Whomping Willow… Snape's head scraping the ceiling under the Whomping Willow… Snape throwing the invisibility cloak off to –

With a gasp Harry shoved Professor Snape into the entry hall of his mind then out of his mind all together. With a sense of satisfaction, Harry slammed the front door of his mind shut and locked it against any further invasions.

It was only then that Harry became aware of the cold seeping into his back. He blinked up at the shadows that hid the ceiling of the potions' lab.

"Professor Snape?"

"Those things never happened" Professor Snape rasped from somewhere to Harry's left. To Harry's immense satisfaction, he sounded like he was on the floor too. "How can you remember things that have never happened?"

"I need an Occlumency and Legilmency teacher" Harry said as he slowly levered himself into sitting upright. His head was pounding.

"That is not what I asked you, Potter!"

"It's not the sort of thing one should talk about out loud in Hogwarts" Harry grumbled as he slowly stood up. "And you'd have to promise not to tell Professor Dumbledore about anything you see in my mind."

Harry leaned against the nearest Potion's station. Across the room Professor Snape was leaning against the nearest wall. When he saw Harry looking, he levered himself off of the wall and straightened up.

"We do not keep secrets from the Headmaster, Potter." Snape sneered. "And if I were to, you would be the last person that I would enter into such a conspiracy with."

"Too bad" Harry grumbled. "You were my first choice."

"Your mean, greasy, vampire of a Potions' Master?"

Harry gaped at the man.

"I know what your peers whisper about me."

"You're not the nicest teacher in the castle" Harry agreed carefully. "But some things are more important."

Snape stilled. He peered at Harry with glittering black eyes for several very long moments. Harry tried not to fidget.

"Get out" he hissed.

Harry scrambled for the doorway as quickly as he could manage.

The next morning at breakfast, LeStrange appeared at Harry's elbow at the Gryffindor table. Harry immediately scooted toward Neville, making a spot for LeStrange between himself and Ron. Ron scowled and scooted into the open spot.

Harry noticed Jeremiah LeStrange's eyebrows twitching toward a scowl. With a scowl of his own for Ron, Harry shoved at Neville's shoulder.

"Make a spot, Neville."

Neville clumsily scooted the other way, nearly tipping over the pitcher of orange juice in the process. Only Harry's Seeker reflexes saved himself and Neville from an early morning dousing.

"Have a seat."

"Are you certain?" Jeremiah LeStrange asked with an odd emphasis on the words as if the question meant more than it should.

"Yeah. 'Course I am." Harry blinked up at Jeremiah. "Want some bacon?"

Jeremiah's expression relaxed. His mouth twitched into the beginnings of a smile as he clambered onto the bench next to Harry. On Harry's other side, Ron stiffened.

"Yeah. And some eggs." Jeremiah pulled an unused place setting toward himself from across the table. "Ohhh is that strawberry jam?"

"Raspberry" Harry said, ignoring the other Gryffindors' stares.

"Even better."

Jeremiah slid another rolled up sheet of parchment toward Harry then proceeded to slather raspberry jam on his scrambled eggs. Harry stuffed another sausage in his mouth then unrolled the parchment.

Tell Potter that his Monday, Wednesday, and Friday detentions are now with you. – SS.

Harry beamed. "Excellent. Let's get started tonight."

"Will you be ready tonight?"

"Definitely" Harry said, already mentally running through the first few lessons that he taught the D.A. "The house elves set up that unused classroom under the main staircase as our practice room since it's centrally located. And I've already planned our first few sessions."

"Do you mind if I invite the other fifth year Slytherins?" LeStrange asked after swallowing a mouthful of bacon.

"Invite anyone you like. I don't care about the Houses."

LeStrange smiled, his eyes flickering over the scowling Gryffindors around him.

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

At dinner that night the oddest thing happened: Percy deliberately sat across from Harry. A moment later Oliver Wood thumped down to Percy's left. Fred and George Weasley settled on Percy's right. Oliver and twins happened to Harry fairly regularly. The twins happened to Percy fairly regularly and Percy happened to Harry occasionally but the only times all three of them had happened to Harry this year had been on the train, when Harry first joined Gryffindor, and Christmas hols.

Harry had never seen all four together in either timeline, much less all four of them together and intently focused on him. Any one of the four possessed frightening powers of concentration but together they were… intimidating.

"I heard that you're leading a Defense study group" the oldest Weasley at Hogwarts said stiffly.

"Sure. After dinner. Want to come?"

Percy inclined his head. "There should be at least one prefect in attendance."

Harry bit back a smile and refrained from mentioning that the fifth-year Slytherin prefects – Jeremiah LeStrange and Mildred Bulstrode – would be there. The more the merrier, right?

"It's criminal!" Oliver Wood exclaimed loudly as he heaped mashed potatoes onto his plate. "Snape'll let you off to tutor Slytherins but he won't even consider it when it's something important!"

"Like quidditch" George said slyly.

"Exactly!"

"Aren't you taking O.W.L.s this year?" Harry asked as he helped himself to some roast beef.

"Yeah. What of it?"

"You should come then. It'll be a good review for you."

Wood frowned. "I'm in the middle of working out some new plays."

Harry grinned. "It might be worth adding to our training regimen for when another team has booked the pitch."

Oliver pursed his lips but nodded. "Good idea. We've got to stay in top shape to stay on top of our game!"

The twins groaned. "Thanks a lot Harry!"

When Harry approached the Slytherin table for dessert, LeStrange beckoned him over to the knot of fifth years. As Harry nibbled on an apple strudel, Jeremiah introduced Harry to the other fifth year Slytherins whether he already knew them or not. Most of them looked singularly unimpressed by him.

After dinner Harry and the ten fifth year Slytherins trooped to the designated classroom to find Oliver, Percy, Fred and George waiting for them. The room itself was practically carpeted in practice mats and there was a giant heap of pillows in one corner of the room. There was a mostly barren bookcase against the far wall. It was by no means as well endowed as the practice room that the Room of Requirement provided but it was perfect for Harry's present purposes.

"Excellent!" Harry enthused before anyone could take offense to anyone else's presence. "Who knows the disarming spell?"

Kevin Noxias, a fifth year Slytherin and one of LeStrange's closer friends, snorted. "You dragged us here for _that_?"

There were rumbles of agreement from all of the Slytherins. Even Jeremiah LeStrange looked disappointed.

Harry rolled his eyes and flicked his wand. A moment after that, Kevin Noxias' wand ripped itself out if his hand just before Harry's next spell, a stunner, slammed into him. Noxias crumbled to the practice mats. There was a moment of shocked stillness which Harry took advantage of to flick disarming spells at two of the Slytherin girls that he was unfamiliar with. Their wands slapped into Harry's hand just as spells erupted from eleven other wands. The girls were hit with stunners and flopped down in a heap. In the ensuring chaos Harry easily avoided the Slytherins' clumsy retaliatory spells as well as the Gryffindors' friendly, if poorly aimed, spells.

As he ducked a jelly-legs jinx and rolled out of the way of a pale green hex, Harry silently summoned Mordred McDougal's wand. He caught the pale wand then turned the movement into a twist to avoid a stunner. Harry stunned McDougal then hastily threw up a shield against a poorly aimed blue spell from Percy and a cutting spell from Larkins. Harry slashed his wand at Percy, Larkins, and two Slytherin girls. Four eight-meter snakes burst out of his wand and streaked across the floor toward the other four students. Larkins dropped his wand. Harry rolled under a banishing charm even as he heard Percy curse at the snakes. As he rolled, Harry silently conjured another four eight-meter snakes. Those four streaked into the cluster of Slytherins. Shrieks, not all of them girlish, rang out even as a handful of dungbombs exploded. His eyes watering from the noxious fumes, Harry used the cover provided by the smoke, flying dung, and shouts of mingled disgust and horror to hiss to the snakes so softly that his hiss was a mere vibration of his throat.

"_**Are you well?"**_

Seven affirmatives came from the smoke. Nearby there were three clusters of flashing lights. Those burst of light showed the position of three people casting hexes, jinxes, or curses. Harry quickly snapped out three stunners at the sources of light then dropped to the floor and crawled away from where he had been standing.

"_**Bring me their wands."**_

"_**What?"**_

Harry crouched on the floor as he silently waved his wand in a wide summoning charm. As he waited for the wands Harry hissed to his snakes.

"_**The sticks that they wave. And do not poison them."**_

Five wands flew at his head. Harry snatched them out of the air then hurried to move away from his current location.

'_Smells like fifth year._'

With five wands in his pocket and eight to retrieve, Harry smacked himself in the forehead.

'_I'm an idiot._'

Then he cast a bubble-headed charm on himself.

"_**I have a stick."**_

"_**As do I."**_

"_**Four of our number are holding humans."**_

"_**Good work."**_

A dark shape slowly solidified in the smoke ahead of Harry. Without bothering to figure out who it was, Harry stunned the back in front of him. He snatched up the wand next to the person's rather square right hand and crawled away again. As he crawled away two snakes brought him wands, their wooden shafts carefully clenched in their jaws.

'_Two to go._'

By then the smoke was clearing. Movement spotted in the corner of his eye sent Harry diving forward. Harry automatically cast his strongest shield. Two blue hexes splashed on it while Harry got to his feet. The two last standers, LeStrange and a Slytherin girl that he did not know the name of, were rapidly firing on Harry, alternating spell castings so that his shield was constantly under attack. His shield pulled unpleasantly at his underdeveloped magic, rapidly depleting his inner core of magic. The faltering structure of his shield whined unpleasantly in his ears. His four remaining snakes converged on the two remaining teenagers with wands. They took turns lunging at LeStrange and the girl's unprotected ankles.

Distracted and a bit panicked they both glanced down as they danced away from the snakes. Harry grinned as he dropped his shield and blasted a very large, ridiculously overpowered disarming charm at the pair of them. He easily plucked their wands out of the air.

There was a moment of silent stillness.

"So who's got wands?" Fred asked cheerfully.

Harry held up a fist full of wands and grinned. He swished a wordless enervate at the students that he stunned with his right hand.

"Good on you Harry" George said happily.

"Gryffindor wins again!" Oliver Wood. Of course. _Everything_ related back to quidditch with him.

"Does anyone else have any wands?" LeStrange asked a bit despairingly.

Silence, save for Noxias' groans as he rolled onto his back.

"Did anyone at least take any wands before Potter took them away?" Mildred Bulstrode demanded.

She glared at Harry demandingly. Harry shrugged and glared a bit defensively.

"I don't know. I wasn't going through anyone's pockets!"

"He got two" George said grudgingly as he nodded at LeStrange.

Fred scowled. "He took them off of us."

"Most of you lot couldn't hit a boggart with a riddikulus!" Harry said as he allowed the wands' owners to reclaim them. "Expelliarmus is a simple charm but if you can't cast it and hit your target then you won't be able to do any of the harder stuff."

"Speaking of harder stuff" Larkins interrupted, "_Please_ do something about the snakes."

Harry gently tickled the snakes that were twined around a scowling Oliver Wood and a vaguely green Dagwood Larkins. Hissing with pleasure, they released their captives and joined the seething mass made up of the other conjured snakes in a corner of the room.

"Let's just start at the basics so that I have some idea of what you've learned. If you know them already then we'll move on. If not, you'll finally get a good foundation. And if nothing else, you'll get to practice until you can actually hit what you aim at. Now pair off!"

Thankfully Larkins and LeStrange, Fred and George, and Oliver and Percy did as he asked. The other eight Slytherins grudgingly did as they were told. It turned out that they were as bad at the disarming spell as the member of the D.A. originally were. Harry manfully refrained from gloating as he moved among the pairs, correcting a grip here and a flick there.

It was as he was demonstrating the wand motions to Noxias that Harry head an eerie, familiar hiss.

"…_**so hungry… rip the flesh…**_**"**

He nearly dropped his wand as he swung around, eyes frantically searching for the gleam of scales and giant, lambent eyes.

"Potter?" Noxias asked.

"Shut up a minute" Harry murmured, straining his ears but the faint sound was gone.

"Harry?" asked Jeremiah as he signaled a brief halt to his partner Larkins. "Is something the matter?"

"Yes" said Harry. He was made honest by his distraction, horror, disbelief, and his familiarity with the speaker. He was just so used to answering when Ron or Hermione asked something like that! "Someone's gone and opened the Chamber of Secrets again."


	16. Chapter 16

I don't own or have rights to Harry Potter's characters, franchise, trademark, or copyright. This is for fun, not profit.

* * *

"_What?_"

Harry blinked and refocused his attention on the people around him. Currently everyone, even Fred and George, were staring at him.

'_I am a raging moron_' Harry realized with a sinking sense of dread. Looking around at their startled and disbelieving faces, Harry sighed. '_If I'm in for a penny then I'm in for a pound_.'

"Someone just opened the Chamber of Secrets" Harry said again. "They've just let Slytherin's monster out."

"Rubbish" said Mildred Bulstrode sensibly. "There's no possible way that you could know that. You're just trying to get out of your detention early."

Harry narrowed his eyes as his mind raced. There was nothing he could do right at that moment to stop the basilisk anyway. He was not immune to its stare, the Sword of Gryffindor was still in the hat, and the basilisk was already loyal to Tom Riddle. His original plan had been to quietly steal the diary off of Ginny when he went with the Weasley family to buy their books in Diagon Alley. And as Mildred had already demonstrated, no one was going to believe him about the Chamber or the Basilisk.

'_This is a year too early!_' Harry thought frantically as he clutched his wand a bit too tightly. '_But if anyone dies… It'll be my fault. I have to try._'

Harry spun on one heel and headed for the door. As he moved, his eyes scanned the walls and the ceiling. No pipes or openings of any sort in the walls. Not even a window.

"Potter!" Bulstrode shouted. "Get back here!"

"Can't! I've got to go find Slytherin's snake before she finds anyone else."

"Potter!"

"Stay in here and don't open the door until I get back."

Harry burst out of the classroom. He pressed one hand to the nearest wall.

Nothing.

Harry looked around wildly. The basilisk could be anywhere, even on a different floor.

'_But I heard it in the classroom under the stairs. So up or down… maybe from the dungeons moving upward?_'

Hoping to find the basilisk, despite his well-honed sense of self preservation, Harry bolted up the stairs. Behind him a door slammed open.

"Potter!" roared Mildred Bulstrode. "Get back here!"

Several feet pounded up the staircase after him.

'_Damn it! Why does no one just believe me and do what I say anymore!_'

When he reached the first floor, Harry paused a moment to press his hand against the nearest wall. Nothing. He darted up the next flight of stairs.

"Potter!" shouted Percy. "We're – going to – have to – report you – for this!"

Harry paused long enough on the second floor to press his hand against the nearest wall. Still nothing!

Even has he headed up the next flight of stairs, Harry despaired.

'_It could be down any of these halls. The pipes run everywhere._'

"Stop Harry!" Larkins shouted.

There was a scream from somewhere above him. Harry put on a burst of speed even as several more screams rang out. Harry rounded the final corner of the stairs, his lungs burning and his grip of his holly wand slipping with his sweat, at a sprint. As soon as his eyes made sense of the scene in front of him, Harry skidded to a stop so abrupt that he actually fell over.

Between two darkened windows that same old message was painted on the wall again in what Harry hoped was roosters' blood. Mrs. Norris was hanging by her tail next to the message. What was new were the Petrified first year girls. Lisa Turpin was standing ankle-deep in a puddle of water. She was looking down at her feet. Su Li was looking to her left, through the window to the left of the message. Both girls had looks of utmost terror on their faces.

The basilisk had petrified Su Li and Lisa Turpin of Ravenclaw.

In the ensuing pandemonium, Jeremiah LeStrange caught up to Harry and promptly clamped a hand on Harry's shoulder. Percy Weasley and Mildred Bulstrode took charge of the panicking first year Ravenclaw girls while the rest of the fifth year Slytherins and the Weasley twins milled around Harry. Harry, ignoring the teenagers around him, moved to press his hand against the nearest wall. Jeremiah and the Weasley twins moved with him.

No matter how hard he strained, Harry did not hear anything.

'_It's okay_' Harry consoled himself. '_I know where it's going. But who has the diary this time?_'

"Anything?" Jeremiah asked; his voice was strained.

Harry shook his head. "I can't hear it anymore. I can't even guess which way it went."

Jeremiah darted a look at the other Slytherins and the rapidly growing crowd. He drew Harry down a handy side corridor.

"I have to go help sort this out" he murmured. "But quickly, what do you think it was?"

Harry hesitated a moment then sighed. "You've got to promise not to tell anyone."

Jeremiah's gaze darted to the Weasley twins.

Fred frowned. "We know how to keep a secret!"

"We've already got plenty of those with Harry!" George added.

Together they chorused, "So of course we'll keep our mouths shut!"

Harry nodded. "They will. No one keeps a secret like Fred and George Weasley."

Jeremiah sighed like one much put upon. "I'll only tell if it's pertinent to the investigation."

The Weasley twins frowned. Harry just nodded.

"I only want you to keep half of it secret, anyway" Harry said. He took a deep, steadying breath. It was no help. Not when he could vividly recall the hatred and fear aimed at him during his original second year. He pressed his hand to the nearest wall, focusing on the shape of his hand against the stone. "I'm a Parselmouth. Slytherin's monster is some sort of snake. And she's hungry."

He heard the hiss of the Weasley twins' indrawn breaths and felt Jeremiah's grip on his shoulder tighten.

"This is no time for pranks, Harry" Jeremiah said severely.

Harry glared up at his friend. "I'm not laughing. I'm a Parselmouth."

Jeremiah looked paler and far more calculating as he gazed down at Harry. "We'll talk about this later."

And with that the older Slytherin student swept out of corridor.

"You're the Heir then" Fred whispered.

"But you were with us when that happened" George hissed.

"I didn't do it" Harry snapped. "Slytherin has two magical descendants. Whoever did this is working for the other one."

"Who's the other descendant?" Fred demanded.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr. Lord Voldemort."

Both twins yelped.

"That isn't possible Harry!"

"You killed him!"

Harry's mouth twisted. "Not entirely."

"You know something!" George accused.

"Tell us! We'll help!" Fred insisted.

Harry sighed. "We need to go find Ron, Hermione, and Neville."

The first thing Ron said when Harry and the twins caught up to him, Hermione, and Neville just outside of Gryffindor Tower was, "He called her a mudblood!"

Harry had a terrible, sinking feeling in his gut. "Who?"

"Malfoy!" Ron said with a vicious sort of triumph. "When he saw the message on the wall, he called Hermione a mudblood! I told you he was just as filthy and slimy as every other Slytherin!"

Harry closed his eyes. Somewhere at the back of his head he could hear Hermione – his Hermione, the first one he had ever met – telling him that maybe counting would help his temper. So he mentally counted to ten. Then to twenty. When he got to thirty he gave up.

"There's nothing _wrong_ with being a Slytherin!" Harry shouted. "Malfoy's just being a prat! But you don't have to take it out on all of Slytherin!"

Harry spun on one heel, anger and disappointment in his cousin mixing together and hardening into a ferocious determined to go shout at Draco Malfoy in Slytherin House. Fred and George caught his arms.

"Hold up Harry."

"We were doing something."

"Neville be a good chap, and cuff Ron for –."

"– distracting Harry."

Neville's attempt at cuffing Ron seemed more like tentatively patting his hair.

Fred rolled his eyes. "Hold onto our Harry for a bit and I'll show you how it's done."

It was impossible to stay angry with Fred and George giving Neville lessons in how to properly cuff a younger brother. Harry slowly felt himself relaxing as his anger dissipated. He was still terribly angry at Draco and even more disappointed in him – he had been so _certain_ that Draco was _changing_ – but he no longer had the urge to storm Slytherin House to make his point.

Ten minutes later the six of them were sitting in the Room of Requirement with the Marauders' Map.

"How come you always tell us the wicked cool stuff last!" Ron demanded in outrage. "You told everyone in the entire world about Scabbers first and you told Fred and George about this place first! When are you going to tell us something _first_?"

Fred smacked the back of Ron's head. "Pay attention Ron!"

Ron scowled as he settled into one of the squashy armchairs in the room. He glared but accepted a butterbeer from Harry anyway.

"So?" Ron asked when Fred and George had finished hurriedly explaining about the study sessions with the Slytherin students and poor Su Li. "What does this have to do with Harry?"

Fred and George turned expectant looks on Harry.

Harry made an irritated noise. "I can't tell you anything really important until we all know Occlumency."

"What's that?" Neville asked worriedly.

"It's the art of keeping your thoughts to yourself."

"According to Harry, Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore use Legilmency –"

"– the art of helping yourself to someone else's thoughts –"

"– on students all the time."

"They're not the only ones" Harry said darkly.

"They wouldn't!" Hermione gasped. "That goes against – against everything! Professor Dumbledore – Not even Professor Snape – They just _wouldn't_."

"We used to get away with every one out of seven pranks" Fred said seriously.

"Now that we don't look Professors Snape or Dumbledore in the eye, we get away with one out of every three" George added grimly.

"The results speak for themselves."

"No one has the right to just rummage through someone else's mind! It – It's a matter of basic human rights!"

"And it's almost impossible to prove that someone used Legilmency against you" Harry said gloomily.

"Well we'll just have to learn to defend ourselves against it!" Hermione said stridently. "How do we do that?"

"Occlumency. I know the basics."

"The basics? When did you learn that?" Hermione demanded.

"At the beginning of the year when I was still in classes with you lot. I'm still working on my defenses but I know when someone's trying to slip into my mind and I know how to throw them out."

"Isn't that all we need to know?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. "If you're a strong enough or a good enough Occlumens, maybe. But you can't count on having the strongest mind. And anyway, a skilled Legimens can rip apart your mind even if you manage to throw him out. You can lose even though you won the fight. So we have to learn how to keep them out to begin with or how to let them in but let them see only the stuff we want them to see."

"So you can teach us!"

Harry shook his head. "I don't really have time right now. I can barely handle my own lessons, quidditch practice, my detentions, and my O.W.L.s study group."

'_Not to mention Voldemort or preparing for a war_.'

"You should come to that" Fred said.

"We learned more from Professor Potter in one night than –"

"– we did in three years of actual Defense classes."

Harry felt his face go hot.

"W-Wouldn't we be behind?" Neville asked.

"Nah. The fifth years weren't any better than us."

"Some of them weren't even as good as us."

"Too true."

"It's Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays after dinner" Harry said, interrupting the twins. "Jeremiah LeStrange arranged for me to tutor the fifth year Slytherins instead of having detention with Professor Snape. Everyone's welcome though."

"You're inviting us to go to extra classes? You must be mental!"

Ron expression was twisted with disbelief and outrage.

Hermione nodded briskly. "I'll definitely be there."

Neville slid Harry a shy, uncertain look. Harry grinned encouragingly.

"Come if you want to Neville. I promise, you'll do fine."

Neville nodded and ducked his head to concentrate on fiddling with the label on his half-empty bottle of butterbeer.

Harry concentrated a moment then five identical stacks of books appeared on the table they were sitting around.

"If you get a chance, these were the books I started learning Occlumency with. They'll help you learn to organize and clear your mind. I've got some other reading suggestions after you master these exercises."

Hermione pounced on the books. Ron and Neville slowly shifted through their stacks. Even Fred and George chose a text to flip through.

"Can we take these books out of here?"

"No. But I have actual copies of those books in my trunk."

Hermione nodded absently.

"Can't you tell us anything?" Ron pouted as he flipped listlessly through his books.

"It's a basic precaution Ronald" Hermione snapped without looking up from her book. "If we can't keep secrets, Harry can't tell us anything important. That's why he never told us where he hid the Philosopher's Stone."

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry. "I've studied more since I've met you than in all the other years of my life. Combined."

"A little suffering is good for the soul."

"Shhhh" Hermione hissed. "I'm trying to concentrate!"

* * *

Thursday morning, Gryffindor table was as boisterous as ever except for Hermione who was frantically reading and rereading a certain portion of _Hogwarts, A History_. During Harry's double Herbology tutorial, which had turned into an optional Herbology seminar for anyone between fourth and seventh years, the older Gryffindors pulled Harry into their groups almost before he could notice the way that the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students shrank away from him or the Slytherin students watched him with curious, calculating eyes.

Harry's heart sank.

His Transfiguration lesson, which consisted of himself and Professor McGonagall, was as grueling as ever. It was more than enough to make Harry forget that anything odd was going on.

When he went to find a spot at the Hufflepuff table, however, he was forcefully reminded when most of the table's occupants shot him nervous looks and tried to take up as much space as possible. Even Cedric and the first year Hufflepuffs that Harry was most familiar with – Ernie, Hannah, Wayne Hopkirk, and Justin – would not budge over for him.

It had been embarrassing when Slytherin House had punished him for winning the quidditch game for Gryffindor House. Hufflepuff's rejection, however, was peculiarly unpleasant. It was more than a moment of disappointment or temper. This was an entire Hogwarts House announcing to the entire Hall that they thought him the sort of person who opened secret rooms to send vicious snakes to murder the muggleborns. This was much, much worse than any quidditch-related punishment.

Cedric , his face flushed, refused to even glance in Harry's direction.

'_Good_' Harry thought savagely '_you __**should**__ feel guilty! Spineless bastard_!'

Harry spun on one heel, prepared to stalk back to his own House's table.

"Hey Harry!" Harry turned around at the sound of LeStrange's voice. "I've got a couple of questions for you about Defense."

Harry gratefully nodded and hurried over. As soon as he was settled between Larkins and LeStrange, his plate heaping with fish and chips, LeStrange asked, "We still on for tomorrow night?"

Harry nodded. "Of course. I'll teach anyone who comes."

LeStrange nodded. And that was it. As the fifth years conversation turned toward other topics – mainly whether anyone in Divination had even a prayer of passing – Larkins elbowed Harry.

"Heard something interesting last night" he murmured. "A couple of the portraits were talking. One was a previous headmistress. She seemed to think that you could've gone to Slytherin."

Harry instantly became aware of five pairs of eyes on him even though the other four boys were carrying on their conversation as if none of them had heard Larkins.

'_They're probably in on it together_' Harry thought as he frantically weighed his options. Finally he decided, '_Hufflepuff's already decided I'm the Heir. Why the Hell not_?'

"I could've" Harry admitted at last as he dunked a few chips in his tomato sauce. LeStrange shot Harry a sharp look as Harry elaborated. "I'm ambitious and cunning. But I'm also brave enough to lead the charge and make my plans happen. I could've gone either way."

The other four fifth-years were no longer even pretending not to eavesdrop. They were all stiff, their features sharp, and their eyes cataloguing Harry's every movement and twitch.

"So why'd you choose Gryffindor?"

"Two reasons. First, my parents were in Gryffindor. I thought it might be the easiest way to get to know them."

"And the second reason?"

Harry hesitated a moment then carefully put down his chips. He made sure to meet each of the fifth-years' eyes before he said softly, "Do any of you know Occlumency?"

The looks ranged from surprised to derisive.

"We all do" Noxias said condescendingly. "Every pureblood learns it before he or she turns fifteen."

'_I wonder why that fell out of favor with the Weasleys?_'

"Are you any _good_ at it?"

The general consensus seemed to be that they were all descent at it. Since that was better than anyone else he knew, including himself, Harry took a deep breath.

'_If I don't do this now, when they're __**asking**__ for the knowledge, will I?_'

"There's another war coming."

The boys all made harsh noises and reflexively leaned away from Harry. Harry continued inexorably, his voice a barely audible whisper.

"Voldemort isn't as dead as the Wizarding World wishes he was." Jeremiah swayed as if Harry had hit him in the stomach. His eyes went very wide and his face went quite pale. He looked like he was going to be sick. "And everyone knows that Dumbledore doesn't have a place for Slytherins. This is the only way anyone's going to have a third option."

LeStrange's eyes sharpened. "A third option?"

"I don't care about what anyone's family has done. I don't like the way things are now, but I don't want to destroy anything either. I don't even want to rule the Wizarding World. I just want things to _change_."

"A moderate option" Larkins murmured. "But you don't have the necessary backing to come out on your own."

Dagwood Larkins seemed to come from a moderate family. Since Harry was desperately hoping to portray himself as sane and moderate, somewhere between Dumbledore and Voldemort, Larkin's label was an excellent sign.

"I'm all the backing that I need." Harry said firmly. "I'm not going to let either old man kill me or use me as a puppet."

"Why should we follow you?" hissed Noxias. "We aren't Gryffindors."

"I'm not asking you to." Harry deliberately met each of the others' eyes again before he whispered "Personally, I wouldn't mind if everyone stayed out of the coming war. If it was just me, Voldemort, and Dumbledore fighting, I'd be okay with it. But the old men won't stand for that. They've already drawn sides and they both know just what to say to attract followers even if they don't mean a word of it. No Gryffindor would follow a Slytherin, no matter how right or brave he was. But I like to think that Slytherins would follow a Gryffindor if he is as cunning and trustworthy as he is brave."

In the ensuing silence, Harry leaned back. He ate his soggy chips and still warm fish in silence.

"Do you know who Slytherin's Heir is?" asked McDougal, a fifth year Slytherin boy who had never had two words for Harry before that moment.

Harry, who felt that he had shared quite enough, merely said "Try to remember to enunciate your spells. I meant to tell you last night that you tend to slur your syllables together when you're casting."

When Harry went to Slytherin table that night for his dessert Nott did not even look up when he said, "He's still avoiding you. He even skipped dinner to avoid you."

Harry frowned. Draco was frequently many things but he was rarely cowed. Even when his behavior was really outrageously awful, Draco Malfoy never admitted to being in the wrong. Nott shoved a raspberry tart into Harry's left hand even as he pushed his transfiguration textbook in front of Harry.

"I hate to ask but I've got to get this essay done" Nott said. "I don't understand about changing circular objects into square ones. Tomorrow we have to change round buttons into square ones."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're shameless."

Nott just grinned.

Friday was even more tense and miserable than Thursday for Harry. By the end of breakfast Friday, everyone knew that Harry had known the attack was going to happen before poor Su Li was petrified. No one seemed to be able to figure out _how_ Harry knew though. While everyone studied Harry like a bug under a microscope, Harry studied Professor Snape. Frankly, he had expected to be called into the Headmaster's office the day before. But Snape had kept his mouth shut. He would not quite meet Harry's eyes either, however.

At lunch Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Neville had gone back to the site of the attack. Already the spiders were fleeing the castle. Ron still had his deep seated fear and loathing of spiders which cheered Harry immensely. Ron's spider phobia was not something that he could have affected with his decision to change the timeline but it was good to see things that had remained the way that they ought to be.

Neville quietly noted how odd the puddle of water on the floor had been so Hermione had dragged them into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom again. Harry, suddenly aware of just how much danger they had been in second year in the original timeline, kept a nervous eye on the sink as he strained his ears for even a hint of something slithering through the pipes.

Myrtle, pathetic, miserable, and friendless, made Harry's heart clench. Now that he was older and had more perspective on events, he was painfully aware of how close Hermione had come to sharing her fate – killed by Voldemort while crying in a bathroom over some prat's insensitive remarks.

Harry found himself being unusually kind to her this time around. Ron and Neville balanced that out by being themselves – awkward eleven year old boys talking to a tetchy ghost in a girl's loo.

By the end of Friday's classes, all of Ravenclaw had joined Hufflepuff in avoiding Harry.

At dinner, Ron gleefully recounted the tale of how Hermione had asked Binns a question during their afternoon History of Magic lesson. Then he and Hermione had taken turns recounting the story of the Chamber of Secrets. Harry tried to look desperately interested even as his stomach churned.

The only really bright spot in Harry's day occurred after dinner. When dessert rolled around, Harry's guts began to churn. He could acutely feel the eyes of all four Houses when he got up to go to Slytherin table for dessert. As he approached Theodore Nott scooted toward a scowling Pansy Parkinson and gestured at a spot between himself and Daphne Greengrass. Smiling, Harry hurried to his place.

"Hullo Harry" Daphne chirped happily.

"We're doing this for the homework help" Theodore said snottily then ruined his act by grinning wickedly and knocking his shoulder into Harry's companionably. Harry laughed and nudged back.

"S'okay. I come over here strictly for the desserts."

After dessert Harry leaned back on the bench, hesitating a moment before joining the Slytherin fifth-years.

"I'm teaching Defense to the fifth years. But you're welcome to come."

His Slytherin year mates all looked a bit dubious.

"Maybe some other time" Theodore said at last.

"Yeah, we have a lot of homework" Daphne chimed in.

It was Harry's turn to look dubious. "Well if you or any of the other first years want to join us, we'll be in that classroom under the main staircase. The one with the nearly hidden door."

Then Harry stood and made his way to the Slytherin fifth-years who were all milling impatiently at the far end of the table. At the Gryffindor table the fifth-year boys, the Weasley twins, Lee Jordan, Ron, Hermione, and Neville all got up and joined Harry and the Slytherins. A few minutes later, rapid footsteps chased after them.

"You didn't say first years were welcome" Daphne said accusingly.

"Prat" Theodore added.

Harry merely grinned, heady with his happiness.

In their classroom Harry set up the first- and third-years on one side of the room and all of the fifth-years on the other side. Everyone had a mountain of pillows heaped behind them. There was a bit of concern over Neville and Oliver's lack of partners but Harry set them up in the center of the room and partnered them both. After Neville began to feel familiar and confident with the disarming spell, Harry let Neville and Oliver pair up with each other while he moved among the other pairs. At the end of their time together the fifth years had nearly mastered Harry's second lesson, the simplest shield that he knew, while the younger years were still perfecting their disarming spell.

As the lesson broke up, Harry called out "Keep your ears peeled for a boggart! If you run across one – or hear about one in the castle – we need one!"

"For what?" asked Ron.

Harry grinned. "I'd hate to ruin the surprise."

Sunday night Hermione started the conversation about the Heir of Slytherin.

"It's not Malfoy" Harry argued with Ron, his mind having drifted to a packet of paper with spidery script covering their pages. "I know he's been a prat and I know his family's been in Slytherin forever but –"

"And his dad is evil" Ron put in seriously.

Harry rolled his eyes "– and his dad's evil but he's not the heir."

As far as Harry could tell from the family tree there were only two heirs and neither he nor Voldemort had directly opened the Chamber of Secrets this time. It was whoever had the diary but there was no way Harry could tell the others what was really going on without explaining what he had done to the timeline but it was too risky to share that secret with them when their minds as open and vulnerable as they currently were.

In the end, Ron persuaded Hermione and Neville around to his way of thinking. Of course that led to Hermione suggesting Polyjuice Potion.

"I could just _ask _the Slytherins to let me into their common room" Harry said.

Hermione and Ron's scornful looks shot that idea down before either one opened their mouth.

"You're in Gryffindor" Ron said, as if speaking to an idiot.

"And anyway everyone knows that you don't believe in that blood purity stuff" Hermione said forcefully.

"They'll never talk to you" Ron finished.

Harry sighed. Already he could imagine how angry Slytherin House would be if it ever found out about this. Professor Snape would _kill_ them.

Harry indulged in gloomy thoughts about how irritatingly _young _his best friends were while Ron, Hermione, and Neville started out trying to figure out how to get into the Restricted Section. Without Lockhart's ego and vanity to shield them from serious scrutiny, it was an impossible idea.

Harry was just beginning to relax when Ron said, "Maybe we could buy a book with a knockoff of the proper recipe in it? I mean, the real potions book is probably really old and expensive but we could probably owl order a cheap scroll from Knockturn Alley and –"

"I know the recipe" Harry hastily interrupted, visions of the gruesome drawings of polyjuice gone wrong from Moste Potente Potions dancing through his head. Merlin! "I memorized it while I was studying for my O.W.L.s."

Hermione and Ron frowned at him.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Hermione demanded.

"I was running through the ingredients and directions in my head, just to make sure I still remembered how to brew it" Harry lied. If there was one potion he was unlikely to forget how to brew, it was polyjuice. "It'll take us at least a month if we can get all the ingredients at the right times of the moon. And we don't have access to some of the rarer or more valuable ingredients. I could try to buy them but it would set off a red flag somewhere in the ministry if I ordered them all."

Hermione shoved a bit of parchment, her quill, and Neville's bottle of blue ink toward Harry.

"Write it down so the rest of us know what you're talking about."

So Harry wrote the list of ingredients then the actual brewing instructions and checked four times to make sure that they were right.

In the end it came down to helping Hermione steal expensive ingredients from Professor Snape or letting her do something so potentially suicidal by herself. And there was no way that Harry was going to let Hermione get into that sort of trouble by herself. Ron and Neville seemed to feel the same way which is how the four of them ended up being committed to the same, unvoiced pact from the original timeline: to catch the Heir of Slytherin before he drove all the muggleborns out of Hogwarts or die trying.

Harry sighed. "What potions are you making next week?"


	17. Chapter 17

I have no rights within or to the Harry Potter franchise, copyright, trademark, or characters. This is for fun, not profit.

And your super thoughtful comments are definitely inspiring.

* * *

The death thing was unfortunately likely that Thursday night when Harry snuck back to the potions classroom after his detention to lightly coat the inside of every first year's cauldrons with eucalyptus sap. Friday morning when the first year class made their antiseptic solutions, the solution's ingredients should react with the sap to create a bubbling green liquid with fumes that worked like laughing gas.

Harry fidgeted during his free period rather than getting anything done. When potions let out, he was waiting on the first floor at the top of the steps that all of Gryffindor House used to get to the dungeons. When Ron gave him a thumbs up, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. As Ron and Hermione hurried to the mirror on the fourth floor where they were doing their brewing, Harry grabbed Neville's arm.

"Was anyone hurt?"

Neville blinked then shook his head. He bit his lip a moment then blurted "But Snape laughed." He shuddered. "It was terrifying."

Harry literally felt himself blanch.

Severus Snape… _laughed_…in front of _students_…

'_He's going to murder me_!'

True to Harry's predictions Professor Snape was in an absolutely foul mood when Harry made his way down to the dungeon room where they practiced DADA.

"I heard that you've taught yourself to nonverbally cast" Professor Snape sneered. "No verbal spell casting from this moment on."

Harry barely had time to nod before Professor Snape snapped a stunner off at Harry.

Harry tossed himself out of the way. Grinning, he snapped off a stunner of his own.

If Professor Snape had to take his temper out on Harry, at least it was in a medium that Harry could enjoy too.

Dueling with Professor Snape, while vicious and high energy, was also instructive, controlled, and strangely fun. No one was trying to maim or kill anyone after all. Severus Snape had been the one duelist he had never defeated in the previous timeline, no matter how out of control Snape had been when they crossed wands. The knowledge that Snape could never, ever, have a claim over the Elder Wand pushed Harry even more mercilessly than Severus Snape himself. The duel ended in a draw, by the mercy of Professor Snape Harry suspected.

The Head of Slytherin House looked very thoughtfully at Harry. Harry was doing some thoughtful looking of his own.

'_He's unpleasant and unfair but he isn't cruel or without mercy_' Harry realized. '_In the original timeline when did Professor's Snape's general unpleasantness turned into cruelty?'_

"I am quite aware of who coated those cauldrons in eucalyptus sap" Professor Snape said at last. "No one else would _dare_."

"I'll see you Monday, Professor" Harry said.

The Potions Master inclined his head.

Harry paused at the door. "Was she a good duelist?" Harry asked, knowing that she must have been.

"Get out Potter" Professor Snape said, sounding tired.

Harry got.

Time had pleasantly blurred how wet and muddy and utterly miserable practices with Wood were after Christmas. The first time around, Harry remembered that he had been grateful to be so exhausted. The second time around, he sided with the Weasley twins: Wood was a dangerous fanatic. Sadly, they changed their tune once Oliver announced that Snape was refereeing the next quidditch game.

Harry was probably the only member of the Gryffindor House who did not panic over Professor Snape's decision to referee the next game. He was under no illusions – there would be blatant favoritism toward Hufflepuff House – but at least he was fairly certain that Snape had no intention of murdering him on the pitch this time around.

Ron, Hermione, and Neville did not share his sense of well being.

"Can't you just sit this one game out?" Ron asked, his concern for Harry overriding his innate quidditch fanaticism. Harry had already nixed Ron, Hermione, and Neville's suggestions for how to wriggle out of actually playing.

"I'm the only Seeker. If I don't play, Gryffindor can't play at all." At their expressions, Harry added "I'll be fine. I'll catch the snitch so fast that no one will have time to try to murder me."

Oddly, they did not look nearly as comforted as Harry had thought they would be. Harry was fairly certain that Hermione, who actually took a break from her Occulomency exercises and her obsessive rereading of _Hogwarts, A History_ to make him teach her his best cushioning charm, learned it for the sole purpose of teaching it to Ron and Neville. If he got knocked off of his broom, they were apparently going to be prepared to catch him.

When Neville tumbled into the Tower one night, his legs locked together and nearly in tears, Harry frowned while Hermione reversed the spell and Ron shouted at Neville about standing up for himself. Just like the first time around, Neville took it to mean that Ron was saying that Neville was not brave enough to be in Gryffindor.

This time around, Harry had a sugarquill from Draco's mum in his pocket.

"The Sorting Hat doesn't make mistakes. You're meant to be in Gryiffndor." Harry said as Neville quietly sucked on the sweet. "You're going to be one of the bravest and most loyal Gryffindors this House ever produced – including Gryffindor himself!" Neville shyly dropped his eyes as Harry severely added "Don't let anyone bully you. Stand up for yourself and fight back!"

Neville stared at Harry, his eyes wide. "But he's your friend."

"So are you! You're worth just as much to me as Malfoy is!"

Neville flushed pink but looked thoughtful.

That was the end of the incident as far as anyone else in the Gryffindor Tower was concerned. But Harry found himself fretting over it almost as much as the Basilisk. He had thought Draco Malfoy was _changing_. He had thought, mistakenly, that he could already see glimpses of the man Harry had learned to respect.

'_If I can be so wrong about Draco, what else am I screwing up?_'

His worries over Draco haunted him throughout his days along with his worries over who was being possessed by the diary, how he was going to win the war, and if he could remake Slytherin House. The only time Harry was truly happy and at peace was when he was teaching his Defense lessons to his steadily growing group of students.

The morning of the quidditch match with Hufflepuff dawned bright and clear. Harry was so nervous that he could barely swallow his toast. Despite his nerves, Harry was in a much better position this time around to enjoy Wood's pep talk. It was everything Wood – fierce, demanding, and slightly crazed.

Harry snickered. '_He's the Moody of quidditch_.'

Alicia elbowed Harry sharply and hissed "Don't make it worse."

Sadly, the strategy was the same: get the Snitch before Professor Snape could favor Hufflepuff too outrageously. Still, Harry grinned across the pitch at Cedric as the teams squared off. Cedric blinked then flushed and looked away.

About ninety seconds into the game, Harry remembered why Dobby's protection was such a terrible thing. That was when a rogue bludger swung around and attempted to take his head off. Harry, grimly swerving, diving, and rolling out of harm's way, kept a sharp eye out for the snitch as the twins tried to run interference between Harry and the bludger.

Harry glanced at Professor Snape's tight, irritable expression. His wand was out but whatever spell he was casting had little effect against Dobby's house elf magics. However, glancing at Snape had also revealed where the snitch was hiding.

Putting on a burst of speed, Harry rolled from between his protectors and raced at the professor. Harry buzzed by him, his hand curling around the cool smooth metal of the snitch's body. Professor Snape had to roll to the side to barely avoid having his head taken off by the bludger.

When Fred and George Weasley wrestled the rogue bludger into the box, it was Professor Snape who confiscated it.

"I'd like a formal inquiry into this matter" he said, his glittering eyes practically daring Harry to protest.

Harry simply nodded. "Thanks professor."

Over the professor's shoulder Harry could see Ron, Hermione, and Neville, all with their wands out and watching the exchange closely. Whatever Professor Snape was or was not responsible for, it was clear that Harry's closest friends in Gryffindor House held him responsible for the rogue bludger.

Harry's left eyelid twitched as he already began to envision the arguments that would come out of this quidditch match.

Gryffindor House was ecstatic over the win. After changing, Harry waited for the opportunity to follow Professor Snape and Quirrell into the Forbidden Forrest. It was very comforting to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was still right about Quirrelmort and Snapes's loyalties. At least he was doing _something_ right.

'_I just need to sort out the basilisk and the diary_' Harry thought grimly as he made his way back to the castle and the party going on in the Gryffindor common room. '_But how am I going to get the Sword of Gryffindor out of the hat?_'

* * *

Harry slowly awoke to the familiar sensation of someone mopped his forehead tenderly with a sponge.

Harry immediately relaxed.

'_You're doing something wrong when you know without looking who's assaulting you at night_' Harry thought blearily.

He reached for his glasses.

Dobby was all abject misery and firm resolution: he was desperately sorry to have nearly hurt Harry but he would not allow Harry to stay in danger at Hogwart especially not now that the Chamber of Secrets was opened.

"Dobby, I have a pretty good idea what's going on" Harry said firmly. "I just need to figure out who Lucius Malfoy has gone and given the diary to."

Dobby watched Harry with wide, hopeful eyes. "So Harry Potter knows that it is too dangerous for him to stay at Hogwarts?"

"I have to stay at Hogwarts! I'm the only one who can stop the monster."

Dobby burst into noisy tears as he burbled about Harry's bravery. The little elf wiped his nose and eyes on his tea towel as he wailed, "But Dobby must protect Harry Potter! Harry Potter does not realize how important he is to – to everyone!"

Harry felt his cheeks heat.

"Dobby, if I don't stay everyone else will die and they'll close Hogwarts."

"Dumblydore can protect everyone else! Dobby must protect Harry Potter."

"Dobby, I'd be a lot safer if I could figure out how to get – Dobby!"

Harry jerked upright in his bed. He silently summoned his wand then cast a silencing and a privacy spell around them, anchoring the spell on Harry's bed, his bedside table, and his trunk.

The little house elf startled. "Yes Harry Potter?"

"Can you get the Sorting Hat from the Headmaster's office? I don't want you to do it if you think you'll get caught – and you'd have to avoid the portraits – but if I could have a word with it without anyone finding out, that would sure help me out."

Dobby nodded so hard that he bore a startling resemblance to a bobble-headed doll.

"Right away Harry Potter sir!"

Dobby disappeared with a _crack_! He reappeared a moment later, clutching the Sorting Hat in his spindly hands.

"Great work Dobby!" Harry enthused as he took the Sorting Hat from him. The little house elf blushed dark green at Harry's praise as Harry plopped the Sorting Hat on Harry's head.

"_Ah, Mr Potter"_ the Sorting Hat said cheerfully in Harry's head. _"It's so good to finally visit with you again."_

Harry grinned as he thought, '_And you._'

"_In my thousand years of existence, I don't think I've ever been stolen" _the Sorting Hat mused in Harry's head.

'_Sorry'_ Harry thought guiltily. _'I'll need your help and Fawkes might not bring you to me this time.'_

"_Don't apologize! I was Gryffindor's hat! I like a good adventure! And it's boring, sitting on a shelf in Albus' office and waiting all year for the next Sorting. The Professors hardly ever wish to speak with me."_

'_That sounds... Well, I imagine that Professor Dumbledore gets up to some interesting things.'_

The Hat made a rude noise. _"He's not as interesting as you might think. And you were thinking that it sounds deadly dull. Which it is."_

'_Sorry.'_

"_Only that you got caught. I see that your Occlumency and Legilmency skills are only marginally better than they were at the beginning of the year."_

'_It's not my fault! Professor Snape won't be my partner!'_

"_I'll make you a deal then. If you visit with me every night, I'll help you with your mental arts."_

'_You know Occlumency and Legilmency?'_

"_I can perform the simpler varieties of them. How else do you think that I can see into your head?"_

'_Erm…'_

"_You've never even thought about it! And you're poor Rowena's Heir? She must be rolling in her grave!"_

'_I'm not an idiot!'_

"_Right. Of course you aren't. I even considered Sorting you into Ravenclaw once."_

'…_I think I hate you.'_

The Hat just laughed at him.

* * *

Professor Dumbledore watched carefully as Harry straggled into the Great Hall for Sunday lunch, bleary-eyed, hair everywhere, and rumpled. Clearly, he had only recently gotten out of bed.

Professor Dumbledore smothered a smile.

'_He looks a lot like James used to after a quidditch victory._'

The Weasley twins also seemed to spot him coming through the main doors – perhaps they had been watching for him? – for they met him at the door. The Messers Weasley hurried over to Harry's side before anyone else in the Great Hall even noticed his presence. Each twin grabbed one of Harry's arms and hustled him over to the Gryffindor table.

As the Messers Weasley clambered into the bench on either side of Mr. Potter, Albus wiggled his fingers and whispered a rather obscure but extremely useful charm. Minerva and Severus, seated on either side of him, leaned in close to share the benefits of it.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, clearly bewildered by the twins' aggressiveness.

"Cedric Diggory and Hufflepuff's beaters were Petrified after the game yesterday!"

Even from where he sat, Albus could see all the color drain from Harry's face.

"Did anyone die?"

"No. They were just Petrified like the others."

Harry literally wilted with relief even as he asked, "And you're sure Cedric's alright?"

The twins shot Harry odd looks.

"Yeah" said Mr. Fred Weasley. "He's as alive as all the others."

"Dunno why you're worried about him though" said Mr. George Weasley. "He buggered off when things got tough."

Harry shrugged as he helped himself to a bacon and egg salad sandwich. "I'm hoping it was a mistake."

When the conversation turned toward Harry's Defense tutorials, Albus cancelled the spell.

"Fred and George Weasley regularly fail to do their assigned homework in their mandatory classes" Professor McGonagall sniffed. "There is no way that they're voluntarily attending an extra class. Albus, they're up to something."

"While I have no doubt that you are correct in your assessment, I feel compelled to point out that not only do the Weasley menaces attend Potter's O.W.L. review sessions with the fifth years, they also do the homework Potter assigns like everyone else does."

Minerva's astonishment mirrored Albus' own.

"Since when?" she demanded.

"According to Mr. LeStrange, they invited themselves to the very first review session and have religiously attended every one since then."

"That's not what I was asking! Since when have you been exploiting one of my first years?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "He volunteered."

"Albus, Harry Potter is not _qualified_ –"

"He's more qualified than Professor Quirrell. I believe that unlike Professor Quirrell, Potter holds the highest O.W.L. score in Hogwarts' history."

" – nor is he a member of Slytherin House!"

"He has ties within my house." Severus gritted. Albus smothered a smile at Severus' expense. Even now, it clearly pained Severus to admit to Harry's troublesome attachment to member of his house. "And he _volunteered_ his services to Mr. LeStrange."

Minerva scowled at the mention of Jeremiah LeStrange. She had been particularly fond of Frank Longbottom and Alice McKinnon. Albus found that he quite agreed with her.

'_Why __**does**__ Harry insist on socializing with Mr. LeStrange?_'

"Mr. Potter should be tutoring the fifth years in his own house!"

"He is tutoring them" Severus volleyed back, clearly enjoying knowing something that Minerva did not. "Mr. LeStrange invited his own yearmates but Potter made the review sessions generally open. In his last report, Mr. LeStrange said that thirty students regularly attended Mr. Potter's lessons. All twenty of the fifth years, the other five members of the Gryffindor quidditch team, three Gryffindor first years, and two Slytherin first years. "

"The discipline problems –"

"There are no discipline problems worth mentioning."

"It's Gryffindor and Slytherin. There are _always_ discipline problems worth mentioning."

"Mr. Potter quashed any rebellion in Slytherin House with a very effective demonstration on the first night. I believe that was when he impressed his skill upon the Weasley twins, his team captain, and Percy Weasley. While there have been grumblings of discontent from the Gryffindor fifth years, Mr. Potter is surprisingly strict and apparently very free with his curses, hexes, and jinxes." Severus arched his eyebrows challengingly. "He is quite like his father in that respect."

"I don't know what you're talking about" Minerva said coldly.

Albus ignored his colleagues' bickering as he watched Theodore Nott – another troublesome connection on Harry's part – and Daphne Greengrass leave their table to confer with Harry Potter. Soon the first year Slytherins were seated across from Harry. They looked ill at ease even as they helped themselves to sandwiches. Soon Potter was demonstrating what appeared to be the wand motions for a mid-level shield just large enough for two people. The Slytherin and Gryffindor students around him, all presumably members of his tutorial, were leaning toward him. Any discomfort surrounding the arrival of the Slytherin students was apparently forgotten.

Albus tried not to frown.

It was laudable that Harry desired to share his knowledge and skills with others. And it would certainly be helpful down the road that the boy appeared to be a natural leader. But for all his arrogance and power, Harry Potter was unaware of the real dangers of the Wizarding World. He was dependent on Albus to protect him from undue influences.

'_I will not have another Tom Riddle on my hands. But what shall I do? Harry is tiresomely stubborn. He'll hang onto his bad influences even harder if he senses my hand in events. How can I shift Harry's influences in such a way that he believes he did it himself?_'

Albus was still considering that question the next day when he realized that the Sorting Hat was unaccountably quiet in the current crisis. Curious, he went to the shelf where the Sorting Hat usually waited for company or Sortings.

It was missing.

Albus frowned.

"Did anyone see which professor borrowed the Sorting Hat?" he asked the former headmasters' and headmistresses' portraits.

No one had seen anything.

A quick series of floo calls revealed that none of the other professors had borrowed the Sorting Hat.

"Albus! I warned you when you ceased the use of corporal punishment" said Phineas darkly. "This is what comes of being _soft_ on them."

"What would you suggest?" Albus asked absently, his mind whirling through the possibilities.

"Beat them and keep beating them until someone confesses" promptly suggested one of the headmasters from the Middle Ages.

"I'll keep it in mind. But first, I think I'll offer a reward for the Hat's anonymous safe return."

"And beatings if they're caught!" shouted another Headmaster from the Middle Ages with a disturbing amount of enthusiasm.

"I was thinking more along the lines of massive point losses and a year's worth of detention."

'_Who could have possibly stolen the Sorting Hat?_'

* * *

The fact that three Hufflepuff quidditch players were Petrified after Hufflepuff House rejected Harry Potter drove the Hogwarts rumor mill. Suspicious looks and glares followed Harry wherever he went. Ron, Hermione, and Neville were upset by the school's attitude. The twins seemed to think that it was an excellent joke. They escorted Harry through the halls, waving their quidditch bats about and shouting things like, "Make way for the Dark Lord Potter!" and "Make way for the Heir!" Even the Slytherins Harry was tentative friends with shot him long, considering looks when they thought that Harry was not paying attention.

When Harry caught Neville seriously inspecting an evil smelling, half-rotted newt with rheumy blue eyes as an anti-Heir talisman, Harry grabbed Neville by the collar and dragged him away from the sixth year trying to sell it to him.

"Harry! I need it! I'm nearly a squib!"

"You're nothing of the sort" Harry snapped. "There's no one I'd rather have at my back in a tight spot!"

Neville looked far from convinced.

At dinnertime he had a purple crystal and a tiny skull which he quickly shoved in his pockets when he saw Harry approaching. Harry kindly pretended not to see them.

Only the Sorting Hat behaved entirely normally around Harry.

"_They aren't entirely wrong"_ the Hat said one night to Harry. _"The witches and wizards of Slytherin's line are almost always a bit Dark."_

'_My mum wasn't evil!'_

"_But she did make the time to become accomplished at Blood Magics. Blood Magics aren't evil but they're definitely Dark." _ The Sorting Hat's mental voice took on a sly note, almost as if it was trying to pretend that it only happened to be speaking its thoughts directly into Harry's mind, _"But then, one might argue that rearranging the timeline to suit one's personal tastes is also more than a bit Dark."_

Harry rolled his eyes even as he settled himself more comfortably in his bed.

'_So I really am the Dark Lord Potter.'_

"_There are worse – and far less interesting – things than being a bit Dark.'_

Harry snorted sleepily. _'Selfish Hat.'_

With all of the furor over Harry and Slytherin's monster, no one really paid much attention to the Sorting Hat's disappearance beyond tuts that how could anyone think of pranking the Headmaster at a time like _this_. The twins, of course, immediately accused Harry of stealing the Hat as soon as they could get him away from Ron and Neville.

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies."

This, to Fred and George, was as good as saying 'Yes, I did it.'

"Don't get caught" Fred advised him, quite seriously.

"McGonagall threatened to take one-hundred and fifty points from the culprit's House."

"And give the poor bastard a year's worth of detention."

Harry nodded fervently. "Thanks for the heads up."

The one good thing was that they finished the polyjuice potion. They carefully bottled the potion then gave it to Harry to hide until Easter holidays. Harry hid the small bottles of potion where he hid most of his valuables: knotted in Dudley's socks then shoved in the middle compartment of Harry's trunk.

About a month before Easter holidays, Harry plopped down next to Adrian Pucey.

"I want to have another pickup game of quidditch on the last day of classes. We'd meet on the pitch right after our last lessons of the day."

"I thought that was your thing with Diggory."

"It was."

"So why're you talking to me?"

"Cedric still thinks I'm the Heir and out to kill all the muggleborns."

"I thought he was still Petrified."

"He is. But that probably hasn't changed his attitude."

"Are you?"

"What?"

"Are you the Heir and out to kill all the muggleborns?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I've got better things to do."

"Like teaching Defense."

"Exactly."

The second year rolled his eyes at Harry. "Invite me to your Defense classes and I'll captain the other team."

Harry stared. "They're open to everyone. You don't need an invite."

Pucey narrowed his eyes at Harry. Harry huffed an indignant breath.

"So I'd have to invite every single Slytherin individually to the lessons?"

"LeStrange invited each fifth year individually to attend your lessons."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're all insane. Adrian Pucey, I am formally inviting you to my Defense lessons. I would be delighted if you decided to attend."

Pucey flashed Harry a quick, mocking smile. "See you on the pitch."

That same evening, Harry made an announcement in front of his Defense class. It had swelled to include all of the fifth year Slytherin and Gryffindor students as well as all of the third year Gryffindors, Angelina Johnson, Neville, Hermione, Ron, Daphne, Theodore, and Adrian Pucey.

"Look, I was thinking that it might be fun to have a dueling tournament" Harry said. "A practicum, if you like."

All of the Gryffindors were immediately excited.

Jeremiah LeStrange snorted. "We have those every night."

Harry grinned. "But this will be a chance to really use everything that you know. Sort of put what you've already learned all together. And it'll give me a chance to see where you're still weak."

"Will we have to compete?" asked Adrian Pucey.

Harry shook his head. "It'll be voluntary."

"Winner duels with you" put in Noxias eagerly, apparently still smarting from his quick removal from the melee that had marked Harry's first lesson.

Harry shrugged. "If that person wants to, I wouldn't mind. How's the last weekend before the last week of school for everyone?"

Time rushed forward but Harry still had no idea who Tom Riddle was possessing much less how Lucius Malfoy had palmed the diary off on them. The only thing that he knew for certain was that Draco Malfoy was not possessed. When Harry remarked on that to the Sorting Hat after one of their lessons, the Hat snorted.

'_Time away from the Headmaster's Office always passes quickly'_ the Hat said a bit sadly.

"_You could come home with me for the summer" _Harry offered impulsively.

There was a startled silence from the Hat. _"You don't mean it."_

'_I do now.'_

"_I'm only __**really**__ needed one day a year…"_

'_And I'll be here anyway.'_

"_It would be like you spending the summer with Ron Weasley.'_

'_Except I won't make you de-gnome anything.'_ When the Hat hesitated, Harry wheedlingly offered, _'I'll wear you out. How long has it been since you had an adventure outside of Hogwarts?'_

The Hat laughed. _"You are a __**Gryffindor**__!"_

'_In every sense of the word, baby.'_


	18. Chapter 18

I don't have or own any of the rights to or within the Harry Potter franchise, copyright, or characters. Thanks for all of your lovely reviews! They're really motivational!

* * *

It was the nearly the end of February before Harry could bring himself to touch the mirror. He waited until Friday morning when his dorm mates were in class before he grudgingly dragged it out of the middle compartment of his trunk.

"Sirius?"

Nothing.

"Remus?" Still nothing.

So Harry set it aside and instead got out a quill and parchment to write to Luna. It had been something of a reoccurring thought since he had first seen her at Cedric's party that he should write to her about this or that she would be amused by that.

Dear Luna,

How are you? What are you doing? Are you looking forward to Hogwarts next year?

Right now, Hogwarts is getting a bit too interesting. People keep getting Petrified! And no one can quite figure out whose fault it is.

Hope to hear from you soon.

– Harry.

As soon as he finished, Harry tried again.

"Sirius?"

"Harry!" A pair of very familiar, pale blue eyes appeared in the mirror. "I was beginning to think that you'd never use it!"

Harry flinched. "Things have been really busy lately."

He told Sirius about the Petrified people and everyone's suspicions. It was rather like fourth year – comforting and cathartic. Sirius listened attentively and made all the right noises in all the right places, and then said, "Don't worry about them. They'll catch the Dark creature and this'll all blow over. Two weeks after that, no one will even remember that they ever suspected you."

Harry grinned. "Yeah. So what're you up to?"

"Chasing sheep!" Sirius seemed genuinely excited by that. "And I get to hunt rabbits and we have to chop firewood and I finally found one of those spare wands that works for me!"

Sirius seemed really happy. Lupin's house sounded like it was in the middle of nowhere and lacked little modern conveniences like electricity but what it lacked in amenities, it made up for in tasks to entertain Sirius.

The conversation was fun. It was more than enough for Harry to promise to use the mirror again the next Friday.

By the next Friday, Harry had jotted three letters to Luna and gotten two replies back. The next Friday Sirius was just as excited and happy to hear from Harry.

'_He really is doing better_' Harry realized, fondness and longing mingling into a sort of bittersweet happiness on Sirius' behalf. '_Sending him to Remus' was the right thing to do._'

Harry still missed Sirius though.

"Can I still come to stay with you this summer?" Harry blurted.

Sirius blinked then, looking unaccountably shy, smiled. "That would be great. _Accio_ solicitor's letter!" Harry's brain ground to a halt.

'_Why not try that on the diary? It wouldn't hurt. But where should I do the charm? And if the diary can be summoned, but it cannot get out of the room it's in, the current owner will know I'm onto it. And then the diary will know. Hmmmm… That would require some planning._'

"It says here that my court date is set for the twenty-eighth of June."

"Why is it so late? I thought criminal trials had to be speedy."

Sirius grimaced. "My solicitor and barrister asked for an extension. They wanted Peter's trial and your litigation to be done before my trial. Something about their theory of the case being stronger if those two cases were decided before mine. Anyway, since I've already paid my bail money, no one else is really bothered by the delay. Especially since Wormtail's trail will cover a lot of the same ground."

Harry shrugged. "That's fine. I can come and cheer you on."

Sirius seemed to brighten. "Yeah! And we can go into muggle London afterwards!"

Harry soon fell into a habit of writing weekly letters to Mrs. Malfoy, writing several notes a week to Luna Lovegood, and mirror-calling Sirius on Friday mornings when everyone else was in Potions.

Mrs. Malfoy was as friendly as ever and she certainly sent as many sweets as ever but the tone of her note was a bit too friendly and she was a bit too interested in what Draco was, or was not, up to. It was a bit awkward explaining week after week that Draco was avoiding him.

Luna, as funny and brilliant and comforting as she had been at fourteen, was nothing like that at ten. At ten she had just lost her mother and was a sad, strange, and very lonely little girl. Harry, who had always been grateful to her for looking after him after Sirius died, made sure to write her as often as possible even though sometimes his notes were only a few sentences long. Just so that Luna would know that he cared about her and was thinking about her.

Soon enough, Harry was refereeing the Defense matches. He was quite pleased with everyone's progress but a little surprised when fifth-year Queenie Greengrass won. She insisted on dueling with Harry. The match was tougher than Harry expected but he managed to win after a particularly cunning use of a freezing charm combined with a tripping hex.

The last week of classes was filled with poorly suppressed excitement and impatience. The last Friday of classes was bright and clear with a light wind. It was perfect for quidditch. Sadly this widely announced game of quidditch was much less widely attended than the one at Christmas had been. Wilhelmina Roper and her brother, a first year named Warrick, were the only Ravenclaws to attend. None of Hufflepuff's members attended. Warrick stuck to the stands but Wilhelmina went out for all three matches. She was on Pucey's team twice and Harry's team once.

"Why don't you go out for Ravenclaw's team?" Harry asked when Slytherin and Gryffindor House were walking back to the castle, sweaty and happy. "You're better than any of the chasers that they have now."

Both Ropers stared at Harry with unreadable expressions.

"We're on scholarship" Wilhelmina said at last.

Harry blinked then nodded and changed the subject.

"Hey, there's a Defense class that meets in the classroom under the stairs Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays after dinner. You're welcome to join us."

The Ropers both blinked at Harry before Warrick nodded.

"We'll think about it" Wilhelmina temporized.

Harry shrugged. "The offer's always open."

The first Saturday of Easter Break, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville decided to visit Hagrid. That night they tried out their polyjuice potion. Harry became Zabini, Neville became Crabbe, and Ron changed into Goyle. Sadly, Hermione still found herself transformed into a cat-woman. She had casually brushed some hair off of Millicent's shoulder when Harry was walking the Gryffindors and Slytherins to Potions in the dungeons with Professor Snape. Unfortunately for her, it was once again cat's hair.

'_Hermione must be destined to be the least gross polyjuice disaster ever_.'

Harry thought about that for a moment then shuddered.

When they finally talked Hermione out of hiding in the shadows, Harry gently tugged on Hermione's tailed.

"You're quite cute this way."

It was hard to tell underneath all of that fur but Harry was pretty certain that Hermione was blushing. Ron scowled and Neville turned an alarming shade of bright pink.

"You should hurry up and drink your doses" she said. "I can take myself to the infirmary."

So Harry, Ron and Neville snuck into Slytherin House as Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini while the real Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini were unconscious and locked in a closet. Unlike in the original timeline, Malfoy was pale and drawn as he silently stared into the fireplace. Pansy Parkinson gloated enough about the impending death of the muggleborns for both of them however. As Harry, wearing Zabini's form sat by the fire with Malfoy, Parkinson elbowed Theodore Nott. Theodore had not once looked up or replied to Parkinson's squeals of delight.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

Parkinson scoffed. "Don't tell me all that time with that half-blood has turned you soft."

Theodore paused a moment then shook his head. "Leave off Parkinson. He has more value to the House than you do."

Parkinson threw herself back in her chair. She crossed her arms and pouted at Theodore.

"He's just a half-blood."

"Some things go beyond blood purity."

Parkinson gasped then giggled wickedly. "Don't let the Heir hear you say that! You'll end up like Diggory or worse."

"If you can't see what Potter's doing" Theodore said without looking up from his charms' reading "then you're blind and stupid."

Parkinson glared. "Potter's just some freakish half-blood. He's nothing special."

Theodore snorted. "Go away Parkinson, lest your stupidity be catching."

Pansy Parkinson leaped to her feet and stormed off.

On the other side of the fire, Ron and Neville were trying to get Malfoy talking with no success.

At a table near Harry, Larkins, LeStrange, and the other fifth year Slytherins were huddled together and whispering. Harry leaned back in his chair, trying to make out what they were saying.

"He's recruiting" Noxias hissed particularly loudly. "He's no better than the Dark Lord or Albus Dumbledore."

"So what? At least he's honest about it" sniffed Queenie Greengrass. "Potter won't make promises that he can't or won't keep later."

Probably true Harry conceded.

"He seems to care whether we survive" LeStrange pointed out. "No one else seems particularly worried about that."

There was a moment of hushed contemplation in the group.

"He doesn't demand subservience" Larkins quietly pointed out. "He likes it when his little friends argue with him. He even likes it when LeStrange yells at him."

"He's a little brat" snapped McDougal. "I'm not putting my life in some kid's hands."

"He's Slytherin's Heir" Amara Timmonson snapped back. "Only an Heir would know about the monster before –"

"No group consensus is possible" interrupted her twin Cecil Timmonson. "If Potter is right and a war is coming, we shouldn't even try for one. Let's each publically support him while he is useful to our House and our year. If someone's loyalty to the Gryffindor runs deeper, that will be a private matter between Potter and the one so afflicted."

The fifth years, despite the harsh nature of their words, looked at each other with worried eyes. Harry felt a pang of guilt. He knew how hard it was to try to imagine who you would be facing across drawn wands. How much harder would it be to _know_ that whatever you decided, you would be facing off against your childhood friends?

LeStrange abruptly shoved his chair back. "I won't talk about this again" he said quietly as he stood. He hesitated a moment then murmured, "Good luck whatever you choose personally."

A glance at 'Crabbe's' slowly lightening hair showed that it was time to leave. Ron and Neville seemed to realize the same thing for all three Gryffindors seemed to beat a hasty retreat at more or less the same time.

With Easter break came Norbert's egg, Hermione's sudden panic over exams being less than three months away, Neville's visits to his grandmother and parents, and visits from Sirius and Remus. Of the three, Harry much preferred the visits from the remaining Marauders. Harry politely pretended that he failed to notice Sirius's wild mood swings or the careful way that Remus watched Sirius as if he was uncertain what the other Marauder might do at any moment. It was clear that they loved him no matter how awkwardly they expressed it and that they were trying to be what they thought he needed.

"He's seeing a mind healer at St. Mungo's" Remus confided in an undertone.

Sirius was sitting on the giant stone next to the lake. Most people used it to do homework or sun themselves. Sirius had lost track of time, staring into the distance at something that only he could see.

Harry simply nodded. "It's okay. He doesn't frighten me."

Remus looked relieved. "It still might be good to make sure that you aren't alone with him."

Harry glared at Remus. "Sirius isn't dangerous. Not to me."

"Well no but…he isn't the way he was. And sometimes his behavior is… distressing. Even frightening. And you wouldn't know what to do for him. For Sirius' sake, Harry, please make sure that you have an adult with you when you visit with Sirius."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You worry too much, Remus."

Remus startled, looking both pleased and worried. Due to his long acquaintance with Remus in the other timeline, Harry was much less formal with 'Professor Lupin' this time around. It never failed to please Remus when Harry treated him with familiarity but Harry's lack of fear – of both himself and Sirius – seemed to worry Remus.

Still, Remus dropped the subject.

Wednesday afternoon Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan scrambled into the common room and made a beeline across the Tower and straight to Harry. Harry, who was losing quite spectacularly to Ron, was quite pleased to see them.

"There's a prefect asking for you" Dean said.

"A _Slytherin_ prefect" Seamus said. He frowned at Harry. "How could you tell him where the portrait hole was?"

"I didn't!"

"The prefects always know where all the house entrances are" Hermione said, exasperation lacing her tones. "Why won't any of you read _Hogwarts, A History_?"

Harry grinned as he stood up. "But we have you, Hermione!"

"Harry! You can't just expect me to always be around to tell you these things!"

"Harry! We're in the middle of a game!"

Harry flashed them his best smile. "Hermione can finish it for me."

"Harry!" They both exclaimed together.

As Harry headed for the portrait hole, he heard Ron say "Best two out of three?"

Hermione sniffed. "As long as this game doesn't count against me."

Jeremiah was waiting for Harry in the hallway.

"I was beginning to think that they weren't going to get you."

"Had to tell me off for telling the evil Slytherin prefect where the portrait hole was, didn't they?"

Jeremiah's mouth twisted. He did not laugh as Harry had hoped he would.

"I wished to have a word with you."

Harry nodded. "An empty classroom might be better than the hallway."

Jeremiah nodded and silently led Harry to the nearest classroom. After he made sure that it was really empty, Jeremiah warded the door shut. Harry cast a couple of quick charms to prevent eavesdropping. No one outside of the room should have been able to hear anything said inside the room.

Which, upon further reflection, may or may not have been a good thing.

Fortunately Jeremiah looked almost as nervous as Harry did.

"Serpensoria!"

A long black snake burst out of the tip of Jeremiah's wand. With a long, enraged hiss the snake darted at Harry.

"_**Stop!"**_ Harry hissed back.

The snake immediately stilled.

"_**Shhhh. Don't be angry"**_ Harry hissed as he knelt and extended a hand to the serpent. _**"Come here and I'll keep you warm."**_

The snake willingly slithered up Harry's outstretched arm, up his sleeve, and coiled around his chest.

When Harry stood up, Jeremiah was pale.

"You – You really are a Parselmouth" Jeremiah whispered, awe and horror mingling in his tone.

Harry shrugged awkwardly. "It's not as cool as you'd think. It seriously sounds just like English to me."

"Why are you in Gryffindor?"

"I already told you that."

"But – you're a _Parselmouth_. You _belong_ in Slytherin." Jeremiah's mouth twisted into a bitter smirk. "Unless we've fallen so far that our Heir doesn't want to have anything to do with us."

"How come the moment I admit to being a Parselmouth everyone assumes I'm Slytherin's Heir?"

Jeremiah rolled his eyes.

"You seem to fit in so well then you say something like that and remind me how muggle-raised you are. It's a blood-linked magic. All Parselmouths are descendent from Slytherin's line."

"Oh. Well. That makes sense then. Do all of the Founders have some sort of blood-linked tell? I know Gryffindor's Heir gets a giant sword but is there anything el –"

"Don't change the subject!" Jeremiah shouted. "You don't know how hard it is to be in Slytherin! Everyone hates us, no one will help us, no one gives a damn what happens to us! We have to pay and pay and pay for the sins of our fathers! I never tortured anyone but even the Professors look at me like I might throw a _crucio_ at any moment! I still get detentions for looking at people the wrong way! Voldemort _ruined_ us! And now there's some lunatic letting Slytherin's monster run loose! And you don't want anything to do with us! _You're our Heir but you won't save us!_"

"I'm doing my best!" Harry shouted back.

"Well it's not good enough!"

Jeremiah slashed his wand at the door and stormed out of the room.

Harry, still standing in the center of the room, watched him go. When the conjured snake tried to hiss comforting nothings, Harry let Jeremiah's magic dissolve, taking the magically created snake with it. Hours later, Jeremiah's accusations rang in Harry's ears.

Jeremiah LeStrange missed dinner – and more importantly dessert – that night. When Harry, seated with Abigail and Dagwood Larkins, asked where Jeremiah was the already dour Slytherins around Harry became downright grim.

"Didn't anyone tell you?" asked Cecil Timmonson. "The Bloody Baron and Jeremiah LeStrange are in the Hospital Wing. Petrified."


	19. Chapter 19

I don't own or have any right to or within the Harry Potter characters, franchise, copyright, or trademark. This is for fun, not profit.

Also, a couple of you seem to think that being possessed by Riddle's Dairy is like having the chicken pox - the same symptoms appear in everyone. I rather think it wouldn't be. Aside from anything else, no one reacts to pressure and near death experiences the same way. (For examples see the movies Live Free or Die Hard or Independence Day.) I rather imagine having your soul slowly eaten by a diary is more a singular, near death experience and less like a fever and itchy blotches for all.

* * *

Harry dropped his tart. Red goop slopped down his front.

"When did it happen?" Harry demanded.

"Some time this afternoon" said Abigail Larkins bitterly. "Not that anyone outside of Slytherin House _cares_."

"I care!" Harry said indignantly. "He could've been killed!"

"Tell that to the rest of the student body" Amara Timmonson said bitterly.

At the same time as Amara, Abigail Larkins said, "You're practically a Slytherin yourself."

Cecil snorted. Amara rolled her eyes.

Harry grinned, the expression painful on his face. "I am what I am. And I'm wondering where Jeremiah was when he and the Baron were Petrified."

"They were –" Abigail's words cut off abruptly.

"I can't _believe_ you're still talking to that half-blood" Pansy hissed at the other Slytherins as she flounced by. "Wasn't LeStrange warning enough?"

An uncomfortable silence descended in her wake. No one would quite make eye contact with Harry.

"That's rubbish" Harry said forcefully. "No one was punishing Jeremiah. Whoever is controlling Slytherin's serpent doesn't care who they hurt. Jeremiah and the Bloody Baron were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Yeah" said Abigail. "That's it."

But no one else said anything until it was time for the Defense lesson.

That night, Hermione, Ron, and Neville were waiting for him in the common room when he went to sneak out of the Tower.

"I heard about LeStrange. I thought you'd want to go to the infirmary to see him" she said, rising from the couch. "I need to break into the library. I'm still looking for Slytherin's monster."

Harry grinned. "All right. What about you two?"

Ron and Neville grimaced.

"Extra assignment in potions" Neville said guiltily. "I blew up our last potion."

"And melted the cauldron" Ron said glumly.

Harry smothered a grin. He tried to look like he believed that it could happen to anyone.

"Meet up back here?"

Hermione nodded. "Sure."

Harry settled Hermione in the library then sneaked down to the infirmary. He walked down the aisle of beds that contained Su Li, Mrs. Norris, Lisa Turpin, Cedric, the Hufflepuff beaters, Jeremiah, and the Bloody Baron.

'_If I don't figure this out soon_' Harry thought. '_Someone's going to get killed._'

He roamed the castle on silent feet until, just outside the Great Hall, Harry heard the low, angry mutter of Professor Snape's voice. Harry stilled. He cast Moody's chameleon charm on himself then pressed his back against the nearest wall. A few minutes later Professor Snape marched into view, two miserable Hufflepuffs in front of him. Harry trailed after them. In one of the lesser used ground floor corridors, Professor Snape stomped on one of the larger flagstones.

"Wake up" he snapped.

Harry was too far away to see what happened on the face of the stone but he heard a deep, hoarse voice rasp out, "Good evening, Professor Snape."

"I have two miscreants for you. Camaraderie."

The flagstone dropped down below the rest of the floor then slowly ground to one side.

As the two Hufflepuffs shuffled toward their common room entrance, Professor Snape casually said, "Oh? And Mr. Whitticker? Miss Smithson? Thirty points each from Hufflepuff."

The two flinched as if the professor had stuck them but meekly shuffled down the steps and into the common room.

Harry's pulse pounded. That old, familiar sense of excitement swept through his veins. Here was something new and exciting that he had not done in the original timeline. And it was something silly, not life or death at all.

Harry grinned fiercely.

Professor Snape swept away, no doubt off to find some other unlucky troublemakers or lovers. Harry waited until he was certain the Slytherin Head of House was gone, then crept over to the large flagstone Professor Snape had stomped on.

"Um, excuse me" Harry murmured as he knelt next to the flagstone. "Are you still awake?"

A badger's face swam into view. It almost appeared to be cared into the flagstone's surface.

"Hello. How my I help you?"

"Camaraderie."

"Good show!"

The flagstone dropped down once more and ground to the side again. Harry crept down into the Hufflepuff common room.

The large main room was down in shades of brown and yellow. Fourteen passageways opened off of either side of the common room. Seven were on the left and seven were on the right. The common room was dominated by a gigantic, roaring fire – the largest in any of the common rooms – over which hung a portrait of a redheaded middle-aged woman with a friendly smile and terribly sad brown eyes. Throughout the common room were beanbags, squashy armchairs, and squashy couches. All of the furniture was set in small groups. At the tables were games to be played by groups. Next to the doorway that Harry was standing in was a giant notice board. On it was their quidditch schedule, messages between members of the House, House social events, and study group notices. There was even a poll entitled, "Is Harry Potter the Heir of Slytherin?"

Harry located a self-inking quill tied on a string and hung next to the poll. He carefully put a tally under "Yes."

The common room was empty, and a bit anti-climatic.

Harry tiptoed down each corridor. He carefully opened each dorm room's door and whispered, "_Accio_ Tom Riddle's Diary."

Nothing. Still, it felt good to be doing _something_.

When Harry tapped the underside of the flagstone, it rolled aside with a grumbled, "It's a bit late to be roaming about. You're going to get the set in trouble."

Harry slipped out as quietly as he came and headed down into the dungeons. Luckily he did not run into Professor Snape again.

At the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Harry hissed to the wall, _**"Let me in."**_

The wall slid aside. No one was in the Slytherin common room.

Harry performed the Summoning charm outside of each of the Slytherin boys' dormitories but nothing flew into his outstretched hand.

When he moved to step into the hallway that led to the girls' dormitory, one of the paintings hissed at him.

"_**It will reject you, young man."**_

Harry glanced around. For the first time he noticed just how many snakes there were in the room. They were cared into the stones, seemingly at random, and they were in all of the paintings.

"_**I am looking for a small, black book."**_

All of the serpents jerked and coiled, clearly surprised.

"_**One book looks very much like another to us, young master" **_said the snake in the nearest painting.

"_**It belonged to Tom Riddle. He left a piece of his soul in it."**_

The snakes all hissed disapprovingly.

"_**We can ask the other serpents in the walls"**_ offered one of the snakes carved into the walls. _**"We can look in every dormitory in every House for Tom Riddle's book."**_

"_**And we can ask the other snakes in the other portraits" **_hissed a serpent in one of the paintings.

Harry smiled. _**"I would greatly appreciate that."**_

"_**When we find it, who shall we seek?"**_

"_**Harry Potter."**_

Harry performed one more _accio_ charm, aimed at the girls' dormitory, and then left Slytherin House.

Ravenclaw was, by far, the most difficult House to break into.

After thirty minutes, he still could not figure out the answer to the riddle.

'_The Hat is never going to let me hear the end of this_' Harry thought as he tried to figure out what walked on four legs, two legs, then three legs.

"A lame animagus" he offered hopefully.

"No."

Harry wilted. '_Thank Merlin I didn't end up in Ravenclaw. I would've been the Neville of it – always locked out until someone took pity on me and gave me the password. Probably Luna. Merlin! That would've been a miserable first year._'

"A hippogriff!"

"No."

"Victims of a man-eating harpy. One loses a leg."

"No."

"A man-e –"

"A man!" the guardian interrupted, cutting off Harry's guess of 'Man-eating Harpy while attacking loses a leg'. It was so obviously relieved that Harry felt a bit bad for it.

The door swung open.

Inside, several _accio _charms failed to bring any little black books sailing at him.

When Harry trudged back to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione had not returned yet. Ron and Neville were curled up and asleep in the squashy armchairs next to the fire.

'_It's late_' he thought as he moved their books and parchments off of the couch. Harry flopped out on the couch. '_She'll be back soon. I'll just wait here…_'

Ron shook him awake the next morning. Harry, his glasses askew and digging into the bridge of his nose, blearily gazed up at Ron's pale, drawn face. Over his shoulder, Harry could see Professor McGonagall. The corners of her mouth were pinched, her eyes were narrowed, and her expression was grim.

Harry's heart seized in his chest.

"Potter, Longbottom, and Weasley" she said. "A word, if you please."

Rather than leading the three of them to her office, she led them to the infirmary. Nearly sick with both relief and guilt, Harry was unsurprised to see Hermione, Penelope Clearwater, and Adrien Pucey Petrified in the infirmary.

Neville burst into tears.

"Hermione" Ron groaned as he gently touched her stiffened hair.

Harry eyed Hermione's right hand where it lay on the blankets. It was clenched, just like the first time. While Professor McGonagall tried to sooth Neville, Harry pried the page from the library book out of Hermione grasp. Once again she had written 'Pipes' underneath the bit on Basilisks.

As Professor McGonagall calmed Neville, Harry skimmed the page on Basilisks.

His heart dropped into his stomach.

'_Cockerels! Why didn't I remember that? I mean, they weren't any use last time but __**this time**__ – Merlin, I'm as dumb as a troll._'

"You're the brightest witch of our generation" Harry whispered to Hermione. He gently kissed her forehead. It was a bit like kissing a mannequin's forehead. When he straightened, Ron was looking at him oddly.

When Professor McGonagall held up the compact mirror and asked them about it, Harry said "She was using it to look around corners. She saved their lives."

Harry handed the page to Professor McGonagall. "See? This was in Hermione's hand. She figured it out and was going to tell someone."

While Professor McGonagall read the excerpt, Harry explained about Basilisks to Neville and Ron.

"She must've run into Clearwater and Pucey either in the library or as she was going to find a professor" Harry said. "Hermione doesn't carry a mirror so it has to be Clearwater's. They were using it to look around corners. When the Basilisk was around one of those corners, the mirror kept them from seeing the Basilisk's eyes directly. "

"Hermione really _did_ save their lives" Ron said, awed.

"It was raining the first night the Basilisk attacked. And that bathroom had overflowed. Lisa Turpin and Mrs. Norris must've seen the Basilisk in a puddle" Neville said to Harry. He seemed to have completely forgotten that Professor McGonagall was standing nearby and listening. "And Su Li must've seen the Basilisk's reflection in the window."

"There are mirrors in the quidditch changing rooms" Harry told Neville helpfully, shifting so that the other boy had to turn his back to the professor in order to continue meeting Harry's eyes.

Neville nodded. "So the Hufflepuffs must've seen the Basilisk in the mirror. And LeStrange saw the Basilisk through the Bloody Baron."

Harry nodded. "Sound right to me."

"I need to get you back to your common room" Professor McGonagall said abruptly. "Then I'll need to speak with Professor Dumbledore about acquiring more cockerels. Please don't say anything about any of this until after I have time to speak with the House."

All three boys nodded.

"Everyone we'd tell is already in this room" Neville added.

As the three of them trudged back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry's thoughts whirled.

'_I'm an utter moron. So of course the diary got a really competent minion. Okay, so when they buy more roosters, then what? They can't get them down to the Chamber. I can but if I do, then I'll lose my chance to figure out who has the diary. Riddle will stop taking his victim down there. But if I don't kill the Basilisk now, sooner or later someone will die._'

Harry slept poorly that night. Friday morning, Harry was called to Professor McGonagall's office and told to go visit the Headmaster's office.

The gargoyle in front of the Headmaster's office leapt out of the way as soon as Harry drew level with it. Professor Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for Harry with a pile of silvery material on his desk. Bogfoot was standing nearby with a liquored wooden box gently clutched in his claws. Next to him was Mrs. Bones.

Harry smiled and nodded at them in greeting.

"Mr. Potter there seems to be misunderstanding regarding the contents of your vault. Nevertheless, Mr. Bogfoot" the goblin's lips lifted in a silent snarl; apparently he did not like the 'Mr.' bit "has come to collect your family's invisibility cloak. Sadly, I cannot quite remember which one it was. Perhaps one of these would do."

Harry narrowed his eyes, tempted to call the old man a liar. "Let's see if we can't find my dad's cloak."

Carefully he touched the first cloak. No. That one just felt wrong. Not bad but not quite right. Thirteen cloaks and none of them was his father's invisibility cloak.

Harry glared at Dumbledore. "None of them is the right cloak."

White eyebrows lifted in a gesture of surprise. "Really?"

"If you refuse to give my client his property, Professor Dumbledore, we will have no choice but to level criminal charges against you."

"There is no need for that, Hel –"

"That is not appropriate Professor. The cloak, please."

Professor Dumbledore opened the bottom drawer of his desk. From it he pulled a fourteenth cloak. When he handed it to Harry, a jolt of recognition shot through Harry. In his pocket, the Elder Wand literally jerked. At the back of his mind, its song went from contented to joyous.

A happy little noise escaped Harry. "This is the right cloak. Thank you Professor Dumbledore."

"Of course Harry. However, I expect it to leave with your solicitor. I will not have you using it to get into mischief on school grounds."

It was Harry's turn to feel his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. '_Figures. If he didn't give it to me then I won't be able to have it at all._'

"Of course Professor" he said out loud.

"Now that we've attended to the matter of the cloak, let's discuss the matter of your misappropriation of Harry's funds."

Several hours later Harry knew exactly why various Order members had 'helped' Harry by picking up his pocket money and books. Dumbledore was running a variety of scholarship funds and paying Harry's relatives a stipend for Harry's care, upkeep, and schooling from the funds in Harry's personal vault.

'_He probably used my vault to fund the war last time around_' Harry thought furiously, still enraged that his parents' money had helped to pay for the Dursleys' lifestyle – and Dudley's endless supply of valuables to break – while the Dursleys themselves insulted him, his parents, and made him live in a cupboard on castoffs and leftovers.

"The unauthorized withdrawals will be immediately halted" grumbled Bogfoot.

"If that is truly how Mr. Potter feels then fourteen students will have to cease their education after this year including, Miss Roper, Mr. Roper, and Mr. Thomas."

Harry glowered. '_Manipulative old coot!_'

Aloud he said, "The scholarships will remain in place." Professor Dumbledore beamed. His pleased smile soon faded when Harry added, "However you will not award any more scholarships in my family's name or with my money. Nor will you be conducting the end-of-year evaluations for each student on scholarship. From now on I'll be deciding who I will or won't put through Hogwarts, I'll award the scholarships, and I'll evaluate their progress."

Professor Dumbledore seemed like he was about to say something but then Mrs. Bones shifted and he merely inclined his head instead.

"And I wish to immediately cease paying the Dursleys for _anything_."

"And start criminal proceedings against them?" asked Mrs. Bones.

Harry hesitated. "I don't know. But I do want a huge controlling interest in Grunnings Drill Company."

"Harry, vengeance is not –"

"As you wish Mr. Potter" interrupted the old goblin who managed his accounts.

Professor Dumbledore frowned, his wild white eyebrows drawing together unhappily.

"Finally, there is the matter of Mr. Potter's house elves."

Harry grinned. "Wibbly, a word if you please!"

_Crack_!

The ancient house elf appeared at Harry's elbow.

"You called Mr. Harry Potter, sir?"

Across the table, Professor Dumbledore was scowling. "Those elves were _donated_ to Hogwarts."

"By you for your own self-interests" Mrs. Bones said sharply. "The donation – like all of your other donations – can easily be undone by Mr. Potter. Be grateful that he hasn't made you pay every knut you owe him for your mismanagement, Professor Dumbledore."

"You were always such a sweet girl."

"Insults will get you nowhere, Professor."

"Wibbly, what do the Potter house elves want to do?"

"Whatever Master Potter would like us to do."

"Would you prefer to stay at Hogwarts or go and look after my estates?"

The elderly house elf hesitated. He shot Professor Dumbledore an apologetic look and started twisting one of his ears the way a distraught man might twist a handkerchief.

"We do not want Master Potter's houses to be neglected but we do not want Master Potter to be neglected at Hogwarts."

Harry grinned. "We can do both. You could send most of the elves back to my estates but keep a few here until I graduate. If that's okay with Professor Dumbledore?"

"Students are not allowed to bring house elves to attend to their personal needs" Professor Dumbledore said severely.

Harry nodded and turned back to Wibbly.

"So go home and do all those things house elves do. I'll be fine here."

The old elf looked deeply disbelieving. Harry grinned.

"I've seen my parents' place at Godric's Hollow. It's a disaster."

"That's a national monument!" Dumbledore immediately protested. "You _can't_ clean that up!"

"I bet the other places are a wreck after ten years. And I have a list of places that I inherited. I bet some of them haven't been cleaned in _centuries_."

The little old elf shivered, his eyes lighting up with his excitement.

"We'll be getting ready to leave. I'll see Master Harry Potter sir after he finishes his business with Professor Dumblydore."

_Crack_!

Harry smiled and said to no one in particular, "I love house elves."

It was true. They were loyal, generally friendly, and made everything seem so much brighter and happier. Even Kretcher could make a terrible situation better if he put his mind to it.

"Is there anything else you wish to discuss with the Headmaster?" Mrs. Bones asked Harry.

"I want Sirius Black and Remus Lupin noted as my emergency contacts" Harry said quickly. "If anything happens and I end up in the infirmary – even if it's just a quidditch-related accident – I want them notified. And if I'm unconscious for any length of time, I want the Headmaster to know that neither he nor Sirius or Remus will have access to _any_ of my resources."

"Obviously" grunted Bogfoot. He peered at first Harry then Dumbledore as if he was trying to figure out which one of them was the idiot who needed something like that spelled out.

"Of course. Well, I believe that concludes our business. Would you care to walk us out?" asked Mrs. Bones.

Harry nodded and smiled. "Of course."

At the gate, Harry took his invisibility cloak back from Mrs. Bones.

"I might need it" he said in the face of her disapproving frown. "There's a monster sneaking around the castle petrifying students." She merely nodded as Harry folded the cloak up and pocketed it. Then he turned his attention to the goblin. "May I have my letters Bogfoot?"

The old goblin grunted. "Have to sign my ledger."

Harry nodded. "Anything."

Harry signed for his letters and the cloak.

"Thank you both" Harry said at the Hogwarts gates.

"Of course Mr. Potter" Mrs. Bones said warmly. "We'll still be seeing you July first?"

"Of course!"

Harry and Mrs. Bones said their goodbyes. Bogfoot merely grunted at him.

His hands shaking, Harry headed for Gryffindor Tower. Once he was safely settled on his bed with the box, curtains safely drawn, Harry just stared at his box of treasures.

'_I should open it_' he thought as his fingers gently stroked the box like it was a beloved pet.

Somehow his shaking fingers never quite managed to curl around the lip of the box's top.

'_Maybe later_' Harry finally admitted.

He carefully shrunk the box, tied it into a knot of Dudley's cast off socks, and then hid it in the middle drawer of his trunk. Letters safely hidden, Harry locked his trunk again then headed down to dinner.

Friday night, unable to sleep, Harry retrieved his invisibility cloak from the middle compartment of his trunk and snuck out of Gryffindor Tower. A series of _accio_ charms in the various common rooms brought him no little black books and Slytherin's spies had yet to find it either.

Saturday morning, the newly bought roosters were already dead.

Well, at least, he knew now why the book had not been in any of the Houses.

The last Saturday of Easter Break, Harry, Neville, and Ron played a few listless rounds of Exploding Snap and Wizarding Chess with Fred, George, Percy, Lee Jordan, and Oliver Wood. Then Harry, Ron, and Neville went to visit with Hagrid.

When they knocked, the half-giant flung the door open and pointed at loaded crossbow at Harry's forehead. Neville squeaked, Ron cursed, and Harry had that sinking feeling. Hagrid lowered the crossbow and ushered them into his sweltering hut. While the other three tried to make awkward conversation with Hagrid over the snarls of the crated and clearly furious about it Norbert, and Hagrid tried not to cry, Harry looked around for Hagrid's floo powder. He found it on the mantel piece under a gigantic pair of dragonhide gloves.

Hagrid had just poured them three giant mugs of boiling water – Harry was helpfully adding the tea bags – when someone banged on Hagrid's door. Hagrid shoved the three of them and Norbert's crate under his bed. While Hagrid was grabbing his crossbow and checking the bolt, Harry struggled out from under the bed.

When Hagrid threw the door open, Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge were standing there. On seeing Dumbledore, Hagrid collapsed in his armchair. By the time the two older men strode into the hut, Harry had cast wandless silencing and reinforcing spells on Norbert's crate and put Ron and Neville's mugs in the sink. He settled himself in his spot at the table and sipped his tea as he watched Dumbledore and Fudge harass poor Hagrid. When Fudge mentioned Azkaban, Harry popped out of his seat.

"I think I'll just be calling my solicitor" he said loudly. "I'll need a word with her _before_ Hagrid goes anywhere."

Fudge startled so badly that Harry knew he had not noticed Harry sitting at the table. Dumbledore went from fury to twinkling amusement. That in itself was far scarier to Harry than any of Fudge's blustering.

"Who are you? How did you sneak in here?"

"Hagrid let me in" Harry said calmly as he headed for the floo powder. "We were having tea when you interrupted us."

As Harry helped himself to a pinch of floo powder Fudge said, "This is ministry business! It doesn't involve _you_."

"You're going to take an innocent man and chuck him into prison without a shred of evidence because you've got to be seen _doing something_" Harry said scornfully. "That sort of personal rights violation ought to be the concern of every free person."

'_God help me, I'm turning into Hermione_.'

He tossed the pinch into the fireplace and said the floo address of Ms. Bones.

Mrs. Bones had too large of a caseload to take on Hagrid's case personally but her partner, Mr. Tuttle, was happy to take it on. By the time Harry pulled out of the fireplace, Lucuis Malfoy was in Hagrid's hut and baiting Fudge and Hagrid. Harry narrowed his eyes at Mr. Malfoy even as he listened to Professor Dumbledore's speech about loyalty.

It made Harry's heart twinge.

"Hagrid isn't going anywhere" Harry said firmly as soon as Dumbledore finished. "One of my solicitors will be right through the floo."

Lucuis Malfoy's eyebrows jumped. Fudge began to sputter incoherently. Mr. Malfoy had just opened his mouth when the fire flared green and wizened little Mr. Tuttle stepped through.

"I'm Eli Tuttle, here on behalf of Tuttle, Bones, and Oglethorp" he said cheerfully. "I've been retained by Mr. Harry Potter on behalf of one Mr. Rubias Hagrid."

Fudge's mouth snapped shut. His eyes tracked to Harry's forehead. Automatically, Harry reached up to smooth his fringe over his famous scar. Never let it be said that he failed to be contrary.

Mr. Tuttle's eyes fastened on Fudge. "I'd like to see the arrest warrant."

"Oh, well, er, there was a slight glitch and it's not here but –"

"Oh? Perhaps one of the Aurors is holding it? Well, let's go get it. You three go on ahead and Mr. Hagrid and I will follow along. I'd like a few private words with my client."

A stunned-looking Cornelius Fudge staggered through the door followed by a slightly disturbed-looking Mr. Malfoy and a madly twinkling Professor Dumbledore.

"Don't worry about anything" Harry said to Hagrid cheerfully as Mr. Tuttle ushered him toward the door. "I'll see myself out. I'll be by tomorrow to check on you and Fang."

Hagrid, looking every bit as stunned as Cornelius Fudge, simply nodded and followed his tiny solicitor's instructions.

When everyone was gone, Ron and Neville scrambled out from under the bed.

"I never would've thought of that" Ron said admiringly as they locked up Hagrid's place and levitated the key into its spot over the door frame.

Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't've either if I hadn't already had one. Mrs. Malfoy put me onto the joys of having solicitors on retainer."

Ron and Neville laughed.

"I bet that just makes it so much worse for Mr. Malfoy" Ron crowed.

Harry grinned and said grimly, "I hope it does."


	20. Chapter 20

I have no rights to or within the Harry Potter franchise, characters, copyright, or trademark. This is done for fun, not profit.

* * *

When the rest of the student body flooded back into the castle after Easter Break, the staff implemented new security policies. No one was allowed outside of their dormitories unless they were accompanied by a professor. Professor McGonagall walked them to breakfast in the morning and watched them at quidditch practices. Whichever professor they had class with walked them either to their next class or to meals. Professor Snape walked Harry to and from detentions and walked all of the other members of his Defense classes to their respective dormitories. He always dropped the Ropers off at Ravenclaw Tower first, then dropped the Gryffindors off at Gryffindor Tower, and took the Slytherins to their dungeon last. At least he was silent during Defense lessons. Instead of riding Harry the way he always had in Harry's original sixth year, Professor Snape sat silently in a corner and graded papers while Harry worked on the patronus charm with his students.

"I don't see how this will be at all helpful against a Basilisk" said Kevin Noxias petulantly after his thirteenth failure to make so much as a silvery wisp. "You said spells and blows bounce off of a Basilisk's armored scales."

"They do. Remember to aim for the soft palate of the inner mouth."

Behind him, Snape's quill stopped scratching. The itching between Harry's shoulder blades told Harry that the professor was watching him.

"Shouldn't we be working on our aim them?" Noxias said doggedly. "If our only chance against the Basilisk is to cast precisely _with our eyes closed_ then shouldn't we be working on that?"

Harry sighed. Noxias, who had always been a bit of a pain, had become a royal pain in the arse after Jeremiah had been Petrified.

"I don't know for sure that a Patronus can ward off a Basilisk but no one knows that they can't either. I do know that spells and blows don't work on Dementors either but a really good Patronus can fend them off. If they work on Dementors which are also almost impossible to kill, why not try them on a Basilisk?"

Most of the Slytherins looked highly uninspired by that bit of logic. The Gryffindors, however, were all quite obviously filing that tidbit of speculation away.

"Look, you'll get extra credit if you can make wisps of Patronus-magic. You get even more if it's corporeal. This charm will save you from Dementors and automatically increase your O.W.L. score. However it's hard to learn so we have to start on it now."

When Noxias opened his mouth again, Harry cut him off.

"Look, you shouldn't be worried about killing the Basilisk anyway. It probably won't come down to that. It's much more probable that you're going to spend the next twenty minutes mysteriously transfigured into a wooden lawn gnome."

Noxias paled and shut up. Like most of the pureblood Slytherins, he had only discovered the existence of wooden lawn gnomes after he had started having Defense lessons with Harry. Now everyone in Harry's Defense class both knew of their existence and feared them. Harry, who had already learned the sixth year N.E.W.T.-level material and had spent the year slowly reviewing it, had created the spell by merging a series of relatively complex sixth-year transfiguration sequences with a series of much more complex sixth-year charms. It was used solely on irritating or belligerent Defense students. Harry had used it so often that he no longer needed to vocalize the spell when he did the wand work. There were reasons that, despite locking several years' worth of Gryffindors and Slytherins in a room together three times a week, Harry had never had very many discipline problems, serious or otherwise.

When the patronus charm lesson started up again, Professor Snape's quill started up again.

As aggravating as the guarded walks were for his classmates, they were even more aggravating for Harry who had a slightly different schedule than everyone else and thus always got dragged out of his way by whichever professor was walking him wherever he was supposed to be next. The only good thing was that being dragged out of his way had given Hannah, Ernie, and Justin the opportunity to apologize to Harry for suspecting him of being Slytherin's Heir. Unlike Harry and Neville, Ron was not quick to forgive any member of Hufflepuff House for their recent attitude toward Harry.

Even more aggravating than Ron's continued grudge against Hufflepuff House or being dragged all over the school by well-intentioned teachers was Ron and Neville's sudden insistence on taking pictures of _everything_ for Hermione.

"That way, she'll know what she missed" Neville said as he snapped a picture with Harry's camera of Harry glowering at them.

"You like taking pictures" Ron pointed out reasonably. "You've taken a ton of them all year. Think of this as us helping you to fill up your photo album."

There was really nothing Harry could say against the picture taking after that.

Even more aggravating was that every time a rooster was brought within sight of the castle, it died. Horribly.

Strangely, the _most _irritating thing was that Draco Malfoy was _still_ avoiding Harry.

Draco was pale, sweaty, and withdrawn after Easter break. His eyes darted about and he jumped at shadows. He refused to make eye contact with Harry – or anyone else. His nervous, even guilty, behavior reminded Harry of his sixth year. The only thing missing was a rash of 'mysteriously' poisoned people.

'_Draco doesn't respond well to pressure_' Harry considered, his gaze lingering on Draco thoughtfully. Across the Great Hall, Draco was shoveling food into his mouth quickly and with an appalling lack of manners given who he was and the importance he placed on appearances. '_If he isn't poisoning people or plotting to kill Dumbledore, what's he doing this time around?_'

Spying on Draco using the map was boring. He seemed to spend all of his time in classes, at the etiquette lessons, or the Slytherin dormitories. And it was unreliable since Harry could not spy on Draco when he was doing his own activities or sleeping.

Given the alternatives, Harry was relieved when Draco followed them out to Hagrid's hut and spotted the dragon. He was even more relieved when, true to history, Draco ratted about Hagrid's dragon to Professor McGonagall. By then Norbert was on his way to Charlie so there was no real harm done by Draco's tattling. At least Harry had remembered to pocket his invisibility cloak _before_ he and Neville left the astronomy tower this time around. And any way, if they failed to get detention, how was Harry supposed to keep Professor Quirrelmort from killing Draco in the Forbidden Forest?

Professor McGonagall's fury, however, was a bit scary even for Harry. Poor Neville trembled and held onto Harry's left sleeve while Professor McGonagall railed at the for being so careless and foolish as to sneak out of bed when they _knew_ a dark creature was loose in Hogwarts.

Ron and Neville did not feel nearly so charitable about the whole affair either – particularly the lost points. The night Harry and Neville lost Gryffindor House two hundred points, Neville cried himself to sleep. After about five minutes of listening to his dorm mate crying, Harry hauled himself out of bed. He stood next to Neville's bed for another five minutes before he reached out to awkwardly pat Neville on the back.

"Don't cry Neville. It's not worth it. So they'll be angry. So what? Blame me if you want to. It was my idea and I dragged you along."

"B-But – But –"

"I don't care if they're angry with me."

It took forever for Neville to quiet down and go to sleep. When he finally did, Harry staggered back to his own bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Even with the threat of being Petrified by a Basilisk, the student body made time to hate Harry for losing Gryffindor so many points. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw created new depths of loathing to heap on Harry's head. Even the other Gryffindors were furious and cruel to the two first years. Ron, of course, stuck with them and the twins treated the whole debacle as a huge joke. Most of Slytherin House, of course, made time to thank the two first years for their help in their bid for the House Cup as insultingly as possible. Time spent with some of the Slytherin first, second, and third years and all of the fifth years failed to endear Harry to the majority of the rest of the House of the Serpent. Neville was pale and silent and miserable.

"Don't worry about it" Dagwood Larkins advised Harry one night over dessert. "It'll blow over eventually. Someone else will get Petrified or they'll find the Basilisk and they'll forget all about your 'dragon' fiasco."

It was quite clear from the way that Dagwood said 'dragon' that he thought Harry was up to something else entirely.

"I already told you, I don't give a tinker's damn about public opinion. It's just bloody annoying." Harry sighed. "But you should say that to Neville during Defense. He's actually _suffering_ over this."

Dagwood grinned but his mouth was too full of chocolate cake to answer properly.

Any spare time Harry had was spent frantically studying, the map open and active next to him. It certainly took his mind off of his pressing need to hex most of Hogwart's populace senseless.

Once again they served detention with Hagrid and once again, Filch made the experience as terrifying as possible. By the time they got to Hagrid's hut, Neville was clutching onto Harry's left sleeve. Even Draco was walking closer to him. When Hagrid split the group into teams to make Malfoy stop saying cruel things to Neville, Harry volunteered to go with Malfoy and Fang. After all, he knew from personal experience that while most of the Forbidden Forest's inhabitants liked Hagrid personally, anyone else was pretty much a slow-moving snack to them.

Not that he said as much when Hagrid asked Harry why he wanted to go with Malfoy.

"Someone's got to keep an eye on the prat."

Draco sniffed haughtily and turned his nose up in what Harry recognized as Draco's best impression of his father. Once they were in the forest and by themselves, Draco remained obstinately silent. As they stalked along, thestrals slipped from shadow to shadow in their wake. Draco, of course, was utterly oblivious to their silent guard. Harry, who was walking behind Draco on the forest trail, gently patted a nose here or a flank there.

"Look, I know something's going on with you" Harry said at last, feeling awkward and out of place. Draco startled and wheeled around to stare at Harry with wide, frightened eyes. The whites of his eyes glinted in their wands' light. "I wish you'd tell me what's up."

"Nothing!"

Harry sighed. "I know that you're in a lot of some sort of trouble."

Draco jerked but even as he opened his mouth to shout at Harry, his face twisted into an expression of pure terror, Harry said loudly, "If you need help, any help at all, you can come to me Draco. You know that, right?"

"There's _nothing_ I wish to speak with you about" Draco snarled and stormed off ahead of Harry.

Harry sighed and jogged after the other first year.

"But if there _was_ something, I'd help you" Harry persisted as if Draco were Ron and in a snit over the Triwizard Cup. "Because that's what friends are for."

"We aren't _friends_, Potter" Draco snapped. "I hate you too much to ever be friends with you."

His heart sinking, Harry shut up and simply followed Draco as he followed the trail of luminous unicorn blood. The unicorn was as heartbreakingly terrible as Harry remember it to be. Only this time, Harry realized as he watched its side laboriously rise and fall, it was not quite dead yet.

'_We found it sooner_' Harry realized dizzily as Draco sent up a stream of red sparks. '_This isn't the same clearing. Draco didn't scare Neville, we didn't waste time with false alarms, we didn't fight so we got here before –_'

Shock and relief were swallowed by a wave of adrenaline as Harry yanked his holly wand out. He hurried after Draco into the clearing, his eyes darting over the trees and bushes that surrounded the clearing.

"What do we do?" Draco demanded, his nose wrinkling at the sight of the unicorn's blood. The entire scene seemed far more real and sordid under the light of Draco's red sparks.

"Take off your robes."

"Are you _insane_? I'm not wandering around the Forbidden Forest _naked _while –"

Harry flicked his wand at his own robes in a disrobing spell from that book Ron had given him just before they went horcrux hunting. The buttons undid themselves and the dark material floated off of him, leaving him standing there in his jeans, trainers, and a white t-shirt. He floated his robes over to Draco.

"Wad that up and press it over the unicorn's side. Try to stop the bleeding with pressure."

Malfoy plucked the robes out of the air. Even as he did as Harry told him, he complained.

"Why can't you do this?"

"Because I'm keeping a look out for whatever attacked the unicorn."

Even in the odd lighting, Harry could see Draco pale. He whispered, "You think it's coming back?"

"I think it's coming after the unicorn."

Draco lurched to his feet, abandoning his attempts to put pressure on the unicorn's wound.

"Then why are we still here? We should –"

"I'm not leaving the unicorn behind." Harry said loudly. "Now go press on its side!"

Just then, the bushes at the edge of the clearing quivered. Out of the shadows, stalked a hooded creature; it crawled on all fours like a beast.

Quirrell.

Voldemort.

As it approached the frozen boys, the whining dog, and the dying unicorn, its robes dragged on the ground, making a soft slithering sound as if it were a snake instead of a creature with four limbs.

Harry stood there, shocked into stillness no matter how ready he had been a moment before. Here he was, facing Voldemort _again_ after Voldemort had _murdered him_ and his muscles were frozen and he could hear Sirius telling him how easy it was to die and –

Draco screamed.

Harry startled violently as Draco and Fang bolted.

The creature – Quirrelmort – lifted his head to stare at Harry.

Harry braced himself for agony but felt nothing.

Nothing!

Laughing, he swished a banishing spell at Quirrellmort who dodged. Quickly Harry settled into blasting at Quirrellmort who danced and dodged, always trying to work his way toward the unicorn but never able to get past Harry. Quirrellmort never pulled his own wand – was Voldemort still too weak for spellwork? Harry wondered distractedly – but he was shockingly fast and terribly cunning.

Harry grinned fiercely as he lashed at Quirrelmort with his magic, vocalizing some spells and casting others wordlessly beneath those that he vocalized. His blood was singing and his heart was pounding so hard that he could _hear it_ and he could _win_ if he just –

A centaur burst from the trees at the other side of the clearing. His pale hair streamed behind him as he fearlessly rushed Quirrelmort.

And of course Quirrelmort, having never been a fool, fled.

Harry was so disappointed that he could taste it. It tasted like ash and those sugarquills Darco's mum still insisted on sending him.

'_Don't be an idiot_' Harry scolded himself as he pocketed his wand. '_You couldn't've won. Not with six horcruxes out there._'

"Are you all right?" Firenze asked as he trotted over to Harry.

Harry nodded as he scrambled over to where the unicorn was still stubbornly struggling to live. He pressed his hands against his silver-stained robe and pressed.

"Help me!" He shouted at the centaur. "Do something!"

Firenze shook his head. "The wound is mortal. It is impossible to save that life."

The word 'impossible' echoed through Harry's head.

'_It's impossible to survive the Killing Curse. Impossible to kill Voldemort. Impossible to come back from death. Impossible to change time and fate and consequences. Impossible to hurt a Dementor._' Abruptly Harry was hot and furious as he stared down at the unicorn's frightened eyes and his own silver-stained hands. '_How often do people give up simply because they think something is impossible?_'

But what did he really know about unicorns? Certainly nothing useful in a moment like this. He only knew one healing spell and he was almost positive it was never meant for anything this serious.

'_But I have to try_' Harry thought grimly as he marshaled his magic. He dredged up everything he had left in him – which was a surprising amount given the fact that he was only eleven again.

"You must not attempt to go against the heavens" Firenze said urgently even as Harry released all of his magic with a softly breathed spell.

"Episky."

He pumped everything scrap of magic that he had left into the unicorn. Under his slick hands the unicorn twitched and shuddered. It made a soft, hurt noise even as Harry's hands burned with the amount of magic passing through them and into the dying beast.

Just as Harry's vision was going blurry around the edges and his head started trying to float away, the unicorn neighed and shouldered Harry away as it struggled to its feet.

Harry had time to see the unicorn on its feet, his bloodied robes wadded up at its hooves, and Firenze's astonished expression before the entire world blurred around him.

'_Am I falling?_'

* * *

There was familiar weight and warmth snuggled along his left side. It was snoring softly. And he was almost positive that someone was chewing on his hair.

'_Whoever it is,_' Harry thought irritably, '_Their breath smells like grass._'

Harry moved to shove at the chewer. When his hand encountered unimaginably soft hair, smooth skin, and bristles, Harry blinked open his eyes to find himself staring up at a blurry, white muzzle.

"_Harry_!" Daphne said, her tone conveying just how relieved she was to see him awake if not yet alert.

"Is there a horse in my dorm room?" Harry asked blankly.

Harry recognized Ron, Theodore, and Remus' laughter and Sirius' amused woofs. The guilty snickers were from Neville and someone he was not familiar with.

"It's not a horse" Daphne said in scandalized tones. Her outrage was betrayed by her giggles. "It's a unicorn."

"Ah." Harry blindly reached out to where his nightstand should be. "Why is there a unicorn in my dorm room? In fact" Harry said, as his hand finally closed around his glasses' frame. "Why are _you_ in my dorm room, Daphne? Dean and Seamus instituted this stupid 'No girls allowed' thing the last time Hermione came up."

"You're in the infirmary" Neville said over everyone else's snickers as Harry jammed his glasses on. Neville's pale, frightened face swam into focus. "Don't you remember that detention we had with Hagrid?"

Harry blinked. "So the unicorn is okay?"

Ron snickered. "Yeah. He keeps turning up here no matter how many times Hagrid takes him back to the forest. Madam Pomfrey's going spare."

The unicorn helped himself to another mouthful of Harry's hair. Harry absently patted the unicorn's muzzle as he stared at Firenze questioningly.

When the centaur bowed deeply, Harry felt a familiar sinking sensation. His stomach tightened and adrenaline surged through his veins. His holly wand sailed from the far edge of his bedside table to slap itself into his hand.

In his experience, centaurs were not only proud but tended to dislike him. Even Firenze, who took a much more tolerant view of him personally and his activities generally, was not particularly impressed by him on either a professional or a personal level.

"Harry _no_!" Daphne shrieked. "He's the one that _saved _you!"

Everyone made noises of protest but the centaur merely raised his eyebrows. Well, and the damn unicorn kept gnawing on his hair.

"Have I offended you in some way that I no longer remember?" he asked calmly.

Harry instinctively knew that there was something strange about that question but he did not let his mind dwell on the words long enough to figure it out.

Harry slowly shook his head.

"I quite like you" he said, perhaps too truthfully. "But centaurs don't tend to like me."

Firenze stamped one of his back legs.

"You are _change_" he said, exasperation and impatience lining his words. "You change all that you touch on earth and in the heavens. And if what you have wrought does not please you, you shall simply change us all again. You rearranged the stars to suit your tastes then rearranged them all again. How can anyone feel comfort, much less true companionship, for one who not only has such power but no compunctions about using it?"

His words were like blows to Harry.

Somehow the centaur _knew_. Knew and strongly disapproved.

Harry's wand slipped out of his nerveless grasp. He gaped at Firenze.

"H-How? How do you know –"

"I am adept at reading the heavens" the centaur said gravely.

Questions that he did not even have the words to express churned through his drowsy mind.

"Mr. Potter!" cried Madam Pomfrey as she bustled forward, shatteringly the moment irreparably. She shot the wizards, witches, centaur, dog, and even the unicorn around his bed outraged, irritable looks. "Why did no one think to tell me that Mr. Potter was awake? And you! I told you that there was no place for that dog in my infirmary!" Madam Pomfrey scolded Remus as she shoved Padfoot off of the bed. "I don't care _how_ fond Mr. Potter is of that disease carrying mongrel!"

Padfoot yipped a protest while Remus grinned. "Yes Madam Pomfrey."

Madam Pomfrey shooed everyone out of the hospital wing, including the unicorn. Then she bustled back to him, looked him over, and made him drink some terrible tasting potions while she muttered about Gryffindor heroics and magical exhaustion and the stupidest detention she had ever heard of because what did they think any Gryffindor would do if he actually _found_ a dying unicorn?

The one potion Harry recognized as a dreamless sleep potion he saved to drink last. As he fell asleep, the last thing he heard was Madam Pomfrey mumbling about Gryffindors and their _pets_ then the sound of wings and a very familiar hoot.

Harry Potter fell asleep with a grin.

There was a familiar line of furry warmth pressed along Harry's left side. A curved bill was preening his hair while someone was chewing on his pillow. As Harry drowsily took stock of himself, he heard a page turn and a familiar hum.

Harry grinned and stretched.

"Awake again?"

The bed jiggled then a huge pink tongue bathed every inch of Harry's face then did it again. Hedwig hooted indignantly as she fluttered away. The unicorn continued to munch its way through Harry's pillow. Harry laughed and shoved at Padfoot's furry shoulders as he sat up.

"Ger'off Padfoot!"

In response the dog draped himself comfortably across Harry's lap. Harry laughed and gently fondled the dog's ears.

"He was worried about you" Remus said placidly as he closed his book. He put it on Harry's bedside table. "So was I."

Harry squirmed.

"You weren't even with Hagrid."

"It was Hagrid's idea to split up" Harry protested half-heartedly. He did it mostly because Remus seemed to expect some sort of argument. "Anyway its better it was me. Quirrelmort would've killed one of the others for sure."

Remus nearly fell out of his chair. On top of his lap, Sirius woofed with doggy laughter.

"A professor?" Remus asked.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts" Harry said. "He's been possessed by Voldemort."

Remus' eyes narrowed. "You shouldn't say things like that, Harry. Not even as a joke."

"I'm not joking!" Harry protested. "Almost everyone knows that Voldemort didn't really die with my mum and dad. What Professor Dumbledore and the centaurs know is that Voldemort is back, in the castle, and hiding out under the DADA professor's turban."

"Professor Dumbledore would never knowingly let Voldemort into the castle" Remus said severely.

Harry snorted. "Who do you think let Voldemort in to apply for the Defense position? It's been cursed since then."

Remus glared. "You aren't as amusing as you might hope to be, Harry."

It was still too amazing to see Remus and Sirius alive and well and in the flesh to bother getting cranky with them over Remus' rather mild telling off or patent disbelief. And frankly, no one had ever seemed interested in Dumbledore's shadier actions. Why should that change the second time around?

Harry sighed. "Fine. Have it your way. There is no murderous professor at Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore doesn't know that he's out to kill me, and Slytherin's pet isn't dangerous as long as Dumbledore is at Hogwarts."

Remus sighed. "Sirius, don't you have anything to say to Harry?"

Padfoot squirmed off of Harry's lap. A moment later Sirius Black was sitting at the foot of Harry's bed. He was clean, shaved, had short hair, and was wearing robes that fit him properly. Even though he looked better fed, the lines of his face were strained and gaunt. His eyes were even more intent than usual when they focused on Harry.

Sirius' thin hand slowly reached for Harry. It touched Harry's cheek, straightened his glasses, and ruffled through Harry's hair.

"You're alright?"

"Y-Yeah."

"He didn't hurt you?"

"N-No. I'm just tired."

Sirius nodded, his hand still holding the back of Harry's neck.

"Sirius!" Remus hissed.

"You have to be careful" Sirius said hoarsely. "You're not allowed to die."

"_Sirius!_"

Harry nodded. "I will be. You have to be careful too. You're not allowed to die either."

Sirius flashed a quick smile at Harry as he nodded.

Remus groaned. "That wasn't what I had in mind, Sirius. Remember what the book said? You're supposed to be setting reasonable boundaries for Harry!"

Harry grinned. "He is. I'm to be careful and I'm not allowed to die. Those are the sorts of boundaries that I can really _respect_."

Sirius seemed quite pleased by that. Remus just looked completely and utterly despairing.


	21. Chapter 21

I don't have any right to the Harry Potter franchise, characters, copyright, or trademark.

Thanks for the awesome comments! I really enjoy them!

* * *

Despite looking physically ill, Draco Malfoy was as unpleasant as he was the first time around. He gloated about his father getting Dumbledore removed, of course, but interestingly enough he no longer wanted Hogwarts to stay open. Now, he was openly hoping for a headmaster who would close Hogwarts entirely.

"I'm quite surprised anyone's here at all" Malfoy said loudly at dinner one night. He had stopped avoiding Harry right after the detention in the Forbidden Forest. "Bet you five galleons that the next one _dies_. If the professors _really_ cared about us, they would've already packed us all home by now."

Harry chewed his treacle tart thoughtfully. Draco Malfoy had never been as foolishly, unwaveringly brave as most Gryffindors but he had never been a coward either. And while he could be a brat, he loved Hogwarts every bit as much as Ron did. But now Draco quite obviously, and quite loudly, wished to leave the school. What did he know that Harry did not know?

"If the professors really cared about us" Harry said absently, "they wouldn't've withheld treacle tarts this long."

He ignored the odd looks that his Slytherin friends and acquaintances shot at him.

Harry continued to mull that over on and off throughout the next couple of days while Draco, who looked like he was going to collapse at any moment, began writing letters at dinner begging, demanding, and bargaining with his parents in a desperate effort to go home. It was as if he were trying to avoid a prearranged deadline. But what? The only important dates from the end of the year that Harry remembered from the previous timeline were the last battle at Hogwarts, Dumbledore's death, Sirius' death, Cedric's death, Ron's kidnapping by Sirius, Ginny's kidnapping by –

Harry dropped his quill. It splattered ink all over his open library book_, Interfering with Inferi_, and his notes on the topic. His heart pounding, Harry reviewed that thought.

'_Ginny's kidnapping by Tom Riddle's horcrux was today._'

His heart pounding, Harry glanced around the room. He was the only one in the History of Magic room with the ghostly professor. At the front of the room Professor Binns was still rambling on and on about Hagar the Horrible and the invasion of 972. As per usual, the ghostly professor was lecturing with his eyes closed. It was the perfect opportunity for playing hangman or quietly jinxing a classmate or simply leaving the room.

Harry chose the last option.

He glanced at the clock on the wall behind the professor. It was about twenty minutes before Professor Sinastra would arrive to take Harry with her class to the Great Hall for lunch. If he went up to Gryffindor Tower for his invisibility cloak and the Elder Wand, he might never make it out again – at least, not without Ron and Neville. And the twins had the Map so only Merlin could guess where that was at the moment. But he needed the Sorting Hat. Without it, he wouldn't have Gryffindor's Sword and he needed that sword to kill the basilisk and destroy the horcruxes. But if the date were really important, the diary could kidnap Draco at any moment. Even if the date were unimportant, Harry didn't have any time to spare.

Harry tapped himself on the head with his phoenix feather wand as he wordlessly cast that chameleon charm of Mad-Eye Moody's. A moment after that he got up and crept toward the door. Professor Binns never noticed when he left.

Harry raced through the hallways, hoping that the chameleon charm worked as well as Moody seemed to think it did. He took every shortcut and secret passageway he knew to get to Gryffindor Tower in record time. Harry tapped his head, removing the charm, just long enough to gasp the password to the Fat Lady.

"Where's your professor?" she demanded as she swung open.

"Don't have time" Harry gasped as he scrambled through the opening.

"I'll be telling Professor McGonagall about this!"

Harry darted through the smattering of sixth years in the common room and raced up the steps to the top dormitory. He burst into the empty first year dormitory and ran to his trunk. Harry pressed his forefinger to the second level of his trunk. He winced when the lock nipped him hard enough to draw blood then sipped at his magic. The second drawer slid open. Harry snatched the Elder Wand and the Sorting Hat from its depths. The Elder Wand and the Sorting Hat went into his right pocket. Harry pulled his invisibility cloak out of his trunk and stuffed it into his left pocket.

Harry slammed his trunk shut and bolted back the way that he came.

"Potter!" shouted one of the sixth year prefects. "Where are you – You can't leave without a Professor!"

Ignoring her, Harry shoved the portrait open and darted outside. Behind him he heard footsteps running after him. Still running Harry yanked his cloak out of his pocket and threw it over himself. Then he stopped all together and tried not to gasp for air.

The sixth year prefect and a handful of other sixth years roamed up and down the hallway looking for him for a few minutes. Harry spent that time trying to remember where the Slytherin first years were before lunch on Fridays.

'_Damn it. Okay, well, I know that they have to go to lunch. I'll kidnap Draco while they're on their way into the Great Hall._'

When the sixth years finally gave up and went back inside the tower, Harry relaxed for a moment or two then pushed himself off of the wall.

As he hurried toward the Great Hall, Harry charmed the Sorting Hat then jammed it onto his head.

'_Hello Mr. Potter_' the Hat murmured. '_You do seem to be – ah yes. Well then we don't have a moment to lose!_'

'_I still have time_' Harry thought firmly, his wand in hand. '_Tom didn't take Ginny until nearly sunset._'

'_Maybe he didn't have an opportunity to take her until then_' the Sorting Hat argued. '_You can't take anything for granted at this point, little Heir_.'

Harry was nearly at the Great Hall when Professor McGonagall's voice echoed throughout the school. Harry stopped dead in his tracks.

"All teachers please escort all students back to their common rooms immediately."

'_Damn it!_'

Harry wasted twenty minutes standing in one of the less known secret passages while the student body tramped through the hallways and back to their common rooms. Even knowing as many secret passageways as he knew, there was simply no way that he could make it to Moaning Myrtle's toilet without going through any of the main hallways. As soon as the coast was mostly clear, Harry sprinted towards the girls' toilet that housed Moaning Myrtle's spirit and the secret passageway to Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets.

Myrtle was busy crying in one of the stalls when Harry entered the WC. Rather than talking to her like the first time, Harry immediately set to hissing at the tap.

He paused just long enough to put his invisibility cloak into his pocket.

The slide was as unpleasant as he remembered it being.

'_This stench is never going to come out_' the Sorting Hat complained. '_Couldn't you have put me in a pocket __**before **__throwing us down that slide_?'

'_Sorry_.'

'_Hmph_.'

The snake skin at the bottom of the slide was quite a bit _larger_ than Harry remembered it being. At least Lockhart wasn't along to cave everything in on them this time around.

Harry cast a couple quick scourgifies on himself and the Hat, cast another chameleon charm on them both, then pulled his cloak on and crept down the hallway.

The columned chamber was just as huge and dark and creepy as he remembered it being. Draco Malfoy was laying, face down, right where in another version of the timeline Ginny Weasley had lain. This time, Harry was much more careful as he approached Draco.

'_There!_'

Leaning against a nearby column was a familiar blank-haired boy. He was taller than Harry had been at sixteen and quite a bit better looking. Not as handsome as Sirius had been in Snape's memory but definitely much more handsome than Harry himself would ever be.

Thankfully, he was still quite blurry around the edges. Harry snuck into the room, careful not to make a sound, as he edged toward the diary and the two boys.

'_I need the sword._'

'_This isn't very brave or noble._'

'_The Horcrux is sucking the life out of Draco even as we speak! I don't have time to be brave or noble! Just give me my ancestor's sword!_'

The Hat contracted around Harry's head for several moments before something quite heavy and hard smacked into the top of Harry's head. It nearly knocked Harry out. Without bothering to take the Hat off, Harry yanked the Sword of Gryffindor out of the Hat with his left hand.

Not wasting a second, Harry shoved his wand into his right pocket and used a two-handed grip on the hilt as he slammed the sword down onto the diary, trying to cut it in half.

Instead, the sword rebounded off of the diary so hard that it knocked Harry over.

Behind him, Tom shouted a complex, upper level version of 'finite incantantum.' Harry literally felt his charm slide away leaving him tangled in his invisibility cloak, clutching an ancient sword, and wearing a battered old hat.

"Accio invisibility cloak! Accio wand!"

Harry jammed his right hand down into his right pocket, barely catching his wands just before they could escape. The invisibility cloak, however, wrenched itself right off of him. Visible and sprawled across the floor, Harry grinned up at the dark-haired boy sneering down at him.

'_Is there a class on sneering in Slytherin House?_'

'_Wouldn't you like to know?_'

"Hullo Tom."

The older boy startled. "You know me?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Tom Marvolo Riddle."

As he spoke he drew the letters of Tom's name out in the air in letters of fire with the tip of his phoenix wand. A swish of his wand and they rearranged themselves to say 'I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.'

Tom looked quite pleased. "You _do_ know of me."

Harry flicked his wand, undoing the flaming letters.

"We've met a few times" Harry said lazily as he slowly stood up. "We're quite a bit alike."

Tom seemed startled. "And who are you?"

"Harry James Potter."

"Draco's mentioned you quite a bit." Riddle said pleasantly, his eyes latched onto Harry's face. There was a hungry sort of look in them. "He told me your whole, _famous_ history."

"That's a bit surprising. Why would Draco Malfoy, of all people, do something like that?"

Riddle laughed. It was high and cold and cruel.

"Did you know that he hates you almost as much as he loves you? And he's quite jealous of you and of everyone you consider a friend. You confuse him so naturally poor, stupid, little Draco has worked himself into quite a tizzy over you. 'He's stealing my parents' and 'How can he be best mates with me and those three Gryffindorks?' and 'Why is Harry paying so much attention to LeStrange! It's not fair! I'm his friend! Not LeStrange!'" Tom was twirling Draco's wand lazily between his fingers as he gloated. His eyes never left Harry as he stepped over Draco, moving away from his victim and toward Harry. "It's very _boring_ have to listen to a rich little pureblood whine and angst over his pathetic little problems. But I was patient and kind. I was even sympathetic. I made little Draco absolutely _love_ me. Sadly, Draco's a suspicious little thing. Luckily for me, by the time that he thought to be suspicious of his journal, he had already poured just enough of his soul into me. You wouldn't believe the things that I had to resort to in order to keep him in line. But he stopped talking to you for awhile. He even stopped looking in your general direction. I didn't like that. Especially since, with everything that he had already told me about you, _you_ were my new target."

Tom paused dramatically. Harry refused to look even vaguely impressed. Tom's eyes narrowed as he continued.

"Imagine how angry I was when he refused to so much as sit near you. Then you made that rousing, heartfelt speech during that foolish detention. And sweet, stupid little Draco began to _hope_… _He knows something is wrong Tom. Harry'll figure this out and get help…. He'll stop you. You won't get away with this… When I get home, my father will know what you're doing. Father will stop you… Harry will figure it out any day now and tell my parents. Then you'll be sorry you ever heard the name 'Malfoy'…_ But you didn't figure it out. Not until it was too late for Draco, at any rate."

"He's not dead" Harry said, eyeing the fuzziness around Tom's edges. "I've got time yet to save him."

"I'm glad you figured it out. I've got a lot of things to ask you and this place is so much more _private_ than anywhere else."

"Questions?"

"Yes. How did you get down here? I thought only a Parselmouth –"

"You're not the only Parselmouth in the room" Harry said as he slid a half step closer to the diary.

"Really? How interesting. And how did you – a skinny, marginally intelligent boy with no extraordinary magical talent – defeat the greatest wizard the world of all time?"

Harry cocked his head. "I don't remember meeting Merlin. Did Draco say that I had?"

"Not Merlin!" Tom snapped. "Voldemort! How did you destroy Voldemort?"

"Ah. That. That's a rather boring story. Anyway, he wasn't even the greatest wizard of our times. Everyone knows that the greatest wizard in our times is Albus Dumbledore. He saw through you at school and he still frightens you now." Tom's expression was quite ugly as Harry deliberately added, "Did you know that he even turned you down when you applied for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job?"

'_I really, really hope that Fawkes shows up soon_' Harry thought to the hat. '_I don't want to have to fight the Basilisk without him_.'

'_He'll show up_.'

'_I'm not as loyal to Dumbledore as I used to be_.'

'_Albus cannot afford to let you die. Fawkes will come to help you. But don't forget to be suitably impressed by Albus. Young Albus always did like to have his ego stroked._'

"Albus Dumbledore was driven out of Hogwarts by the mere memory of me!"

"He'll never be entirely gone!"

Harry waited, his breath baited, but there was no phoenix song. Harry nearly vomited right then and there on his own feet.

When Tom demanded to know how Harry had lived, Harry snorted.

"I think not. You'd better just call for the Basilisk and get this over with."

"The longer you talk, the longer you'll live."

"I'm in _Gryffindor_" Harry sneered. "I'm not afraid of death."

Somewhere in the enormous room's deeper shadows, Harry thought he heard the clatter of hooves.

Tom laughed at him and called for the Basilisk. He was just as melodramatic as Harry remembered him being.

Knowing that he was going to have to fight a giant, hungry basilisk was even more mind-numbingly terrifying and horrid than Harry remembered it being. This time, Harry watched as the statute's mouth opened and the serpentine shape made its way toward the statute's lips. As soon as he was sure where the creature was, Harry snapped his eyes shut.

"Expecto Patronem!"

He felt, rather than saw, Prongs emerge from his wand.

"Distract the Basilisk, Prongs! Make it look away from me!"

There was the clatter of hooves on stone then several angry, pained hisses.

Harry tentatively opened his eyes to mere slits.

Prongs had charged the Basilisk then herded it about until its back was mostly turned away from Harry.

Harry quickly rapidly firing off the blinding spell that Victor Krum used – or would eventually use – on his dragon in the Triwizard Tournament. It took several tries until, the Chamber shaking with the Basilisk's weight as it hit the ground, the Basilisk screamed in agony.

The Basilisk thrashed around in obvious agony, its eyes a bloody ruin.

"Accio Harry Potter's wand!"

Harry yelped and tightened his grip on his phoenix wand as his wand jerked in his hand. He shot Tom a dirty look. Tom smirked, saluting Harry with Draco's wand.

A moment later, Harry threw himself out of the way of the blind, raging Basilisk. As he scrambled and scrabbled away from the Basilisk, Harry pocketed his wand and took a two-handed grip on Gryffindor's Sword. After a small eternity of dodging and ducking the Basilisk's fangs and tail, Harry finally, _finally_ saw the opening that he needed. He threw himself down the Basilisk's throat, stabbing the sword's tip up and through the soft palate on the roof the serpent's mouth. At the same time Harry felt a sickeningly familiar burning pain. As he watched, the Basilisk's fang went through his arm then shattered.

Knowing that it was already too late, Harry dropped Gryffindor's Sword to wrench the fang out of his right arm.

Harry collapsed. His right hand lay squashed between his belly and the stones underneath him.

Alone, his arm burning with a white-hot pain, Harry laid face down and dying on the ground in the Chamber of Secrets. A shadow moved over him. Tom Riddle squatted down next to Harry. He helpfully shoved Harry onto his back.

Harry groaned.

His left hand flopped onto his belly like a dead fish. Slowly, every millimeter an act of sheer will, Harry forced his hand across his clinging, blood soaked robes.

"You're dying Potter" Tom gloated as he helped himself to Harry's phoenix feather wand. "It doesn't matter why you survived ten years ago. You unwisely challenged the Dark Lord and now you are paying the price. Relax. You'll be with your parents soon."

Someone started clapping. The sound echoed through the room, bouncing off of the high ceiling and the distant walls. Tom scrambled to his feet. Harry watched as, just past Tom's left thigh, a dark form slipped from the shadows. It was clapping.

"Good show" rasped a familiar voice from the back of Quirrell's head. "I am quite pleased that Lucius sent you. Your body should be quite helpful to me."

"My body?" asked Tom lazily. His body hid his hands from Harry's fading vision but Harry was almost certain that he was twirling his wand again. "Who are you to think that you can steal _my_ body?"

Harry's left hand was on his right hip. His fingertips were in his right pocket. Somewhere, hooves clattered against stones.

'_Prongs…_'

"How can you not recognize yourself?" demanded Voldemort's voice. It was getting closer. Harry wished he knew if Quirrell was walking backwards or forwards but his eyes seemed to be closed. And he could not quite open them. They seemed to be terribly heavy.

'_Maybe a quick nap…_'

"_No napping_!" snapped the Sorting Hat. "_Grab your wand!"_

'_Can't… Tired…'_

"_Harry!"_

Behind Harry's eyelids, a light seemed to be pressing against the blackness. Harry had time to note that it was quite beautiful if dim before there was a slow, searing agony in his chest.

Despite his tiredness a moment ago Harry arched, a scream choking him. And slowly, inexorably, that burning agony slid deeper and deeper into his heart. Its warmth spread from his center outward, eating away Harry's tiredness, aches, and pain. It was like slowly being stabbed while even more slowly consumed by an inferno.

Harry drew ragged, desperate breathes as he tried to scream. But he could not breathe, much less scream.

"You lie!" snarled Tom from very far away. "The great Lord Voldemort could never become such a weak and pitiful creature!"

And then, with one final mind numbingly painful clack, something hit the floor of the chamber underneath him. The place behind his eyelids was pure, searing white.

Then the pain was wrenched out of him in one jarring second.

Harry screamed out his agony.

At the same moment, Tom shouted "Avada Kedavra!"

Voldemort's shrieks echoed through the chamber. As they echoed and reechoed, they became more and more terrible.

Harry, alive and whole and well, lay panting on the ground. Sometime during his healing throes, the Sorting Hat had lost its grip on his head. And there seemed to be a unicorn gnawing on his hair.

Harry, laying flat on the smooth flagstones, watched the floating tar that was Voldemort's current soul swirl and thrash. The tar swept over Harry's body and for one, horrible moment it tried to force its way into him.

Harry's skin burned with the power of his mum's fierce, unending love.

Shrieking, Voldemort swished around Harry and toward Tom. Tom, his expression hard, snapped off several dark and terrible curses with Harry's wand. As Tom battled with his future self, Harry's right hand closed around the shaft of the Basilisk's fang.

Harry, without pausing to think about it, rolled up and onto his feet. He darted toward where he remembered the diary and Draco to be.

Voldemort's desperate wails overlapped with Tom's horrified shriek of "No!"

Tom flung a volley of hexes and curses at Harry. Harry nimbly dodged them. He slammed the Basilisk's fang down and straight into the diary's heart.

Tom screamed.

He writhed and twisted and flailed and shrieked as ink spurted all over Harry until, suddenly, he wasn't. In the terrible, ringing silence Harry crouched next to the diary, one hand clutching the Elder Wand and the other the fang where it was deeply embedded in the diary. The only sounds in the Chamber were the dripping of the diary's ink and Draco's raspy breaths.

Harry slowly dragged himself to his feet. He staggered about, keeping an eye out for Voldemort's essence as he collected his and Draco's wands, the Sorting Hat, and his invisibility cloak. The unicorn, apparently bored or put out about being denied more of Harry's tasty hair, had wandered off again. Harry deliberately left the Sword of Gryffindor where it was.

Draco still hadn't woken up.

He used the mobilicorpus spell to lift Draco. With Draco floating behind him, Harry tiredly trudged toward exit. When Harry got back to where the pipe let out, Harry stared up at it and despaired.

"Merlin's balls, I'm dumb" Harry groaned. "_Why_ didn't I bring my broomstick?"

'_You were busy panicking_.'

Harry scowled. "Shut up, Hat. I mean, there has to be another way out of here. Or maybe a set of stairs. However Draco's been getting in and out of here, we'll find it."

An hour and a half later, Harry had discovered that the Chamber of Secrets was much nicer than he had originally thought but he still had not figured out how to get out of it. Draco was still unconscious. Harry was worried about that. Ginny had woken up fairly quickly after Harry had destroyed the horcrux. So what was Draco still unconscious?

Harry was standing in front of the open pipe and wondering if he could levitate Draco all the way up it, when the Hat asked, '_Have you considered ordering stairs?_'

It couldn't be that simple… could it?

Harry tried to imagine that the wavering light and shadows were writhing and twining snakes.

"_**Stairs**_" Harry hissed.

The pipe began to twist and lengthen until it touched the ground and melted into a spiral staircase.

Harry groaned.

The Hat laughed at him.

'_Why didn't you say anything sooner?_'

'_You told me to shut up._'

Harry stepped onto the stairs. Under his feet they began to move like the steps to the Headmaster's office did. What felt like a million stairs later, Harry staggered into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He collapsed to his hands and knees.

"Oh God, I'm dying" Harry gasped.

"Not in here you aren't" Myrtle said tartly. "I'm already haunting this bathroom."

Harry nodded. "Give me a minute and I'll go to the infirmary."

"You'd better!" she said. "I'm not sharing with some strange _boy_!"

He fixed his eyes on the little serpent on the tap. _**"Close."**_

Myrtle shrieked and threw herself into her toilet. As it began to make alarming noises, Harry scrambled to his feet and hustled out if the bathroom as quickly as possible.

Luckily for him, the infirmary was currently three doors down from Myrtle's bathroom. Thanking Hogwarts for its kindness, Harry charmed the door open and staggered into Madam Pomfrey's domain.

"Madam Pomfrey! Madam Pomfrey!"

The mediwitch hustled out of her private office, her wand at the ready.

"What is it Pot – Draco Malfoy!"

"I got him about two hours ago! He still hasn't woken up!"

"Put him on that bed, Potter. Then go floo Professor McGonagall. She's in Professor Snape's office."

Harry gently laid Draco in the indicated bed then went to Madam Pomfrey's office. Once there, Harry took a moment to peel a sock off then stuffed the destroyed diary into it. Then he tossed a pinch of floo powder into the fire.

"Professor Snape's office!" he shouted to the green flames in Madam Pomfrey's grate. Rather than putting his head into the flames, Harry stepped through. When the spinning stopped, Harry tumbled out onto a woefully familiar flagstone floor.

"Ugh" Harry groaned as he levered himself upright.

Everyone was staring at him.

Professor Snape was seated behind his desk, his expression grim and his eyes glittering menacingly. Behind Professor Snape's chair stood Professor McGonagall, her mouth tight and her expression as grim as Professor Snape's. Professor Dumbledore stood in the far corner, his hands folded together and his eyes uncommonly solemn. Mrs. Malfoy was huddled in one of the seats in front of the desk, her skin too pale and her eyes puffy and red. At Mr. Malfoy's feet, a trembling Dobby was frantically trying to finish polishing Mr. Malfoy's shoes. Mr. Malfoy himself had his arm around his wife's shoulders, his face set into grim lines and his eyes blazing with a mix of rage and anguished.

It was the most concern that Harry had ever seen Lucius Malfoy show for another human being.

"Draco's in the hospital wing" Harry said.

Mrs. Malfoy made a terrible, strangled noise as she staggered to her feet.

"How?" demanded Mr. Malfoy fiercely. "Where did they find him?"

Harry blinked. "I went and got him from the Chamber of Secrets. Erm, now might not be the best time to mention it, but Professor Quirrelmort is dead."

That seemed to be the last straw as far as Mrs. Malfoy was concerned. She roughly pushed past Harry to snatch up Professor Snape's pot of floo powder. A moment later she was gone.

As Mr. Malfoy pushed past Harry, Harry shoved the sock-wrapped book into Mr. Malfoy's hand.

"For you."

Mr. Malfoy's lip curled. He ripped the sock off, threw it aside, then cast a single furious look between the gently smoldering book and Harry. Without a single word to Harry, he snatched up a pinch of floo powder and followed his wife to the Hospital Wing.

Dobby stayed where he was, cradling the sock in his hands like it was delicate and precious.

"Harry Potter freed Dobby!" he gasped. His already high voice jumped an entire octave higher as he shrilled, "Harry Potter has set Dobby free!"

The tiny elf flung his arms around Harry's waist. "Harry Potter is greater than Dobby knew."

Then, with a crack of house elf magic, Dobby disappeared.

"Perhaps you would care to explain what happened" Professor Snape said silkily.

Harry took a deep, steadying breath.

Then he collapsed into the nearest of Professor Snape's uncomfortable visitor's chairs.

Professor Snape narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together but he let Harry stay there.

"Well, I think the first thing I should tell you is that I'm a Parselmouth and I don't entirely suck at Legilmency" Harry said. He very carefully edited out any prescient knowledge, the Sorting Hat, the Philosopher's Stone, and the location of the Chamber as he briefly narrated the events of his year. He did mention Professor Quirrell's attempts at Legilmency. In his version of events, he had gotten the sword over Easter Break from his account manager who had gotten it from the Potter family vault. At the end of it all, Professor Snape asked.

"But how did you know where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"It wasn't hard to find. But then I'm Slytherin's Heir" Harry said calmly. Professor McGonagall made a horrified little noise. Professor Dumbledore peered at Harry without a single twinkle in his eyes. Professor Snape narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "You have to be a Parselmouth – or possessed by one – to get into it."

"Harry, you're mistaken" Professor Dumbledore said. "Let me assure you that the Potter line has never been related to the Slytherin line in any way, shape, or form."

"But the Evanses _are_ descended from one of Slytherin's daughters. Well, from one of her squib sons to be exact. And from one of Rowena's squib great grandchildren. When they two lines met, you got my mum and my Aunt Petunia."

"The…Evanses," gasped Professor McGonagall. "But Lily Potter was a muggleborn!"

Harry shrugged. "Muggleborns have to come from somewhere. Why not from wizards and witches by way of squibs? It just takes a few generations or centuries for the magic to reappear in the line."

Harry's eyes slid toward the clock on the wall. "Can I go now? I don't feel very well. I should probably see Madam Pomfrey."

Those were the magic words as far as Professor McGonagall was concerned. Before Professor Dumbledore could ask any of his questions, and from his particularly genial expression Harry was certain that he had several, Professor McGonagall hustled Harry back through the fireplace and into Madam Pomfrey's care. He was alert for another ten minutes before, between explaining about the new scars on the inside and outside of his upper right arm and waiting for Madam Pomfrey's diagnostic spells to finish, Harry fell asleep. His last coherent thought was to wonder if Hermione would be awake when he woke up.

What woke Harry was the laughter: high and cold and maniacal. Well, that and the feminine screams. They were both oddly familiar.

"No! Don't my Lord! Not my son!"

For a moment or two, Harry expected the world to dissolve into that lurid green light. But it never happened so Harry was left wondering why on Earth his mum would call anyone 'my Lord' because as far he could tell, his mum never gave up or gave in to anyone.

And the voice was all wrong. The fear and desperation were right but this voice was higher, shriller. It was still familiar though.

"Not Draco!" cried another voice. This one was a man's. Harry instinctively clenched his teeth because he hated that man. "My body is older and stronger" pleaded the man. "It will suit your purposes much better than the body of a small boy will."

Well. That was entirely wrong. Harry was quite certain that his father had never once even considered saying something like that.

Deeply reluctant, Harry nonetheless pried his eyes open. His glasses and two wands were on his bedside table and there seemed to be a riot in progress at the far end of the ward. His robes were a rumpled mess in one of the chairs, apparently abandoned in favor of sorting out the riot.

"Luuciusss" hissed a familiar, hated voice. "Would you deny me what is mine by _right_?"

As Harry jammed his specs on, Madam Pomfrey went sailing across the Hospital Wing. She hit the far wall with an extremely unpleasant crunch then laid still, slumped half against the wall and half on the ground. Harry rolled out of bed.

"Yes!" cried Narcissa Malfoy. "I will give you anything, everything, but _not Draco_!"

Harry snatched up his Phoenix Wand and jammed the Elder Wand into the back of his waistband.

'_Better wizards than you have lost a buttock_' warned Madeye Moody's memory.

'_I really need to invest in a high quality forearm holster_.'

His wands trilled their amusement.

Harry checked on Madam Pomfrey. She was unconscious and not dead but other than that, he had no idea what might have happened when the spell hit her or she hit the wall. A swish of Harry's phoenix feather wand and Madam Pomfrey gently settled into the nearest bed.

"I'm so disappointed Lucius. I expected you to have better control over your wife."

Harry snorted. Even he knew that where Draco was concerned, Narcissa Malfoy was a force of nature. At this point Lucius had a better chance of stopping the tide than his wife.

His wand at the ready, Harry slipped down the length of the ward. He soon realized that his stealth was wasted. Voldemort had driven the only conscious adults left in the wards – namely Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy – to utter distraction by threatening their son's continued existence.

"Get out of my son!"

"Lucius! Control your harpy!"

Draco Malfoy's body was on its feet. His back was lightly pressed against the back wall of the ward, his wand was at the ready, and his face was twisted in a very familiar sneer. It was not the one that Draco had directed at him nearly every day for five years in the first timeline. It was the sneer Voldemort had directed at Harry just before he sent the Killing Curse at him.

Plus Draco was right-handed. Voldemort, through possessing Draco's body, was brandishing Draco's wand at the elder Malfoys with his left hand.

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were both at forty-five degree angles to Draco's body, their wands drawn and at the ready. Mr. Malfoy looked desperate. Mrs. Malfoy looked downright murderous.

"I'll go to Dumbledore" Narcissa hissed, ignoring the byplay entirely. "He'll force you out of Draco."

"Lucius!"

Harry watched Mr. Malfoy set his shoulders and firm his jaw as he circled around behind Narcissa.

"I find that I agree with Narcissa. My wealth, my wand, and even my life are yours to command, my Lord. But I prize my son above all else. I cannot allow this."

Harry pressed his left shoulder gently against the cool stone, smoothed by centuries of students. From there it was a straight shot between himself and Voldemort.

Harry tightened his grip on wand and took a deep, steadying breath.

"I see. I'm disappointed, Lucius. Av –"

Harry threw himself at the other boy. His breath exploded out of him when his chest slammed into Draco's side. As they tumbled to the ground, Harry had a glimpse of Draco's wide gray eyes. Red sparked in their depths.

Voldemort screamed.

Two voices rang out, both shouting a single spell.

"Avada Kedavra!"


	22. Chapter 22

I do not have any rights to or within the Harry Potter franchise, characters, copyright, or trademark. This is done for fun, not profit.

Sorry for the long delay but the beginning of the semester is always particularly hectic for me. Hopefully the next update will be slightly faster.

* * *

He was in that other Kings' Cross Station. Harry quickly glanced around. There!

Draco was about to step onto the Hogwarts Express. One of his hands was already on the bar next to the door, his fingers curled around it in a tight grip, as he prepared to step across the gap.

"Draco!" Harry shouted as he leapt forward. He sprinted down the length of the platform. "Draco! Wait!"

Draco looked up and down the platform. When his eyes finally picked Harry out he blinked and smiled. His feet stayed on the platform and his hand stayed on the bar.

"Potter! I mean, Harry! I thought you'd've already gone on." Draco smirked. "Gryffindor that you are, I thought you'd've already left on the next great adventure."

"I was looking for you!"

Draco flushed. He looked down the length of the station then back at Harry.

"Yeah? I never thought I'd hear you say that." He gestured at the train with his free hand, the one that was not holding onto the sidebar. When he spoke, his words were hesitant and his voice was shy. "I was just on my way back to Hogwarts. If you want, we could share a compartment this time."

"Not that way!" Harry, finally within arm's reach, grabbed Draco's wrist. "Let go."

"You let go!" Draco tried to yank his wrist out of Harry's grasp. "I'm not your house elf!"

Harry shook his head. "No. Not a chance. You're going the wrong way."

Draco frowned. "But it's the only way I can go. I'm not ready to go on. I've got to go see my parents and apologize. I've been horrid to them since Christmas." He grimaced. "I was horrid to you too. Not that that should be any sort of surprise to you. After six years – well, seven now – you should be used to it."

Shocked shivered down Harry's spine and jerked at his muscles. "You remember that? From before?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course, Scarhead. At this point, there isn't anything from my life – lives thanks to you – that I don't remember." He smirked. "Regretted not shaking my hand, did you?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe. A bit. In sixth year."

Draco's mouth fell open. His eyes flicked away and down the length of the platform then back up to Harry. "But… the tower…"

Harry smiled, suddenly sure of himself again. "I was there. I know what happened. Let go of the train. We'll find seats and talk about it."

Draco frowned. "But it's the only one. If we miss it, we'll be stuck here until we're ready to go on."

"There's a third choice."

"No, Harry" Draco said, his old arrogance lacing his voice. After the first year that he had just struggled through, Harry smiled to hear it. "You either go on or go back."

"Trust me, Malfoy." When Draco opened his mouth, Harry desperately added, "Please Draco. Please trust me."

Draco hesitated a moment. At last he said, "I'm not ready to go on."

"We won't."

"I want to see my parents again. I like seeing them both sane and happy."

Harry smiled despite himself and nodded. "You will. I promise."

Draco let go of the train. Harry dragged Draco back the way that he himself had come. They passed an extremely ugly, and oddly scaly, toddler. Sucking his thumb, he watched Harry with bright blue eyes. Harry winked at the boy in passing.

"Pot – Harry? Where are we going?" Draco looked about as if he was seeing the far end of the platform for the first time.

Harry grinned at Draco. "I'll show you a bit of magic I picked up the first time. Potter family secret."

And with that, he yanked Draco back the way they had come.

* * *

Someone was screaming fit to shame a banshee.

And there was a knee poking into his stomach.

Harry slowly opened his eyes. He was in the hospital wing's standard issue pajamas. His cheek was pressed into Draco's breastbone which was also covered in the sturdy cotton pajamas. His limbs and Draco's were tangled together, awkward and sharp where they pressed into each other.

Under him, Draco groaned. "Merlin, you're heavy Potter. Wouldn't know it to look at you. And when did I get _burned_?"

The screaming cut off as if severed with a knife.

"_Draco_!"

Hands yanked Harry off of Draco and shoved him aside.

"Urk!"

"Oh Draco, my angel, my darling" Narcissa babbled hoarsely as she, collapsed on the Hospital Wing's floor, clung to her son and rocked him. Lucius was on Draco's other side, his arms around his son and wife. "I thought – you were – and then – oh _Draco_!"

Watching Narcissa Malfoy fuss over her son, that old hurt and jealousy welled up in Harry. At moments like this, no matter how old he was, he longed for his own parents.

Harry shoved himself into sitting upright then staggered to his feet. A glance around showed Madam Pomfrey and a deserted Hospital Wing, save the row of the Petrified.

Where were Sirius and Remus anyway? Where were Dumbledore and McGonagall? Where was Snape?

Harry sighed. '_The more things change, the more they stay the same_.'

In Madam Pomfrey's office Harry rummaged around until he found her jar of floo powder in the bottom drawer of her desk.

First he flooed St. Mungo's for a Healer. It turned out that only Board members and people approved by the Headmaster or Deputy Headmistress could come through the floos. After securing a promise for an emergency healer to be sent from St. Mungo's to The Three Broomsticks, Harry flooed the Headmaster's office. When his head popped into the Headmaster's office, the room was empty.

After a moment's thought, Harry tossed another pinch of floo powder. His head popped into the staff room. Over a dozen sets of eyes turned on him. Apparently, Dumbledore _was _having a staff meeting but with the entire staff, rather than just the four heads of houses.

"Yes Mr. Potter?" Professor Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling madly.

Evil old bastard.

"Madam Pomfrey and Draco Malfoy are hurt – more hurt." From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Professor Snape jerk as if to rise. "I flooed St. Mungo's for an emergency Healer but he's going to have to come by way of the Three Broomsticks. Someone will have to let him in."

"I'll see to that" Professor Sprout immediately volunteered.

She hurried out of the staff room without waiting for any agreement from anyone.

"Very good Mr. Potter. And Voldemort?"

Gasps and murmurs came from around the staff table. Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes at Professor Dumbledore. Professor Snape's mouth set in a grim line.

Harry's mouth tightened. '_It was __**another**__ stupid test_.'

"I dealt with him. Again."

"Very good, Mr. Potter. Move back and I'll be right through."

But Harry did not budge. To move back meant watching the Malfoys fawn all over Draco. And it was great for Draco that he had such a loving family but… well… Harry could admit that he was jealous. He had needs too.

"Has anyone flooed Sirius and Remus for me yet?"

He hoped that did not sound as forlorn out loud as it had in his head.

Professor McGonagall's face softened. "Get back into bed. I'll floo them and they'll be along shortly."

Harry nodded gratefully. "Thanks Professor."

The ten minutes it took Remus and Sirius to arrive were some of the longest in Harry's life. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy fussed over Draco as if their entire world had narrowed to the single fact that despite being hit with an Unforgivable by Harry, and dying, he was alive and well. Professor Snape glided out of Madam Pomfrey's office and headed straight to Draco's side without sparing even a sneer for Harry. Professor Dumbledore wandered about, twinkling at him and fiddling with Madam Pomfrey's things. Once or twice Professor Dumbledore tried to speak with Harry but Harry, tired and scared, closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

'_How much does Draco remember from the train station?_'

"Harry!" shouted Sirius' voice from Madam Pomfrey's office.

Harry's eyes popped open just in time to see Sirius sprint out of Madam Pomfrey's office, Remus on his heels. A moment later Sirius hauled Harry into sitting upright, his long fingers frantically skimming over Harry's shoulders, arms, scalp, and face.

"Sirius" Remus started the say. When he tried to tug Sirius off of Harry, Sirius shoved Remus' hands away then went back to inspecting Harry with his fingers.

"You _promised_! You _promised _to be careful! You _promised_ to be careful not to die!"

Sirius, his hands clamped around Harry's wrists was peering at Harry's hands from centimeters away, when Harry twisted out of Sirius' grip. He caught Sirius' wrists with his own hands.

"I'm okay Sirius."

"You were bitten by a basilisk!"

Harry winced. "Professor McGonagall mentioned that, huh?"

"Where?" Sirius snapped. "Where did it bit you? Your leg? Your foot?"

Sirius lurched as if he intended to go inspect Harry's feet personally.

"My right arm." Harry said hastily. At Sirius and Remus' looks he added, "It was a very large Basilisk." Harry let go of Sirius' wrists. He shoved his right sleeve up and pointed to the circle of pink scar tissue. It looked like Harry had recently been speared.

"_That?_"

Sirius seized Harry's arm. He turned it this way and that, examining the shiny pink scar tissue on both sides of Harry's bicep.

"Where's the other fang mark?"

"She only got one fang into me. To be fair I was stabbing her in the roof of her mouth at the time."

Sirius' face went chalky white. Even Remus looked appalled.

"You let a giant basilisk _eat _you?"

Sirius starting inspecting Harry again, starting with the messy hair on the top of his head.

Harry huffed an impatient sigh but he was grinning hugely.

"This is why children need boundaries and discipline, Sirius" Remus said, even as his hand came to rest on Harry's shoulder.

Harry made a face at Remus. "I was hoping that you forgot about that conversation."

Remus smiled gently. "Not a chance."

When the Healer from St. Mungo's arrived, he looked over Madam Pomfrey then Draco then Harry. Harry, ignoring Remus' frown and Sirius' narrowed eyes, listened carefully when Draco loudly explained the diary then what had happened in the hospital wing.

"I was possessed. Voldemort was going to kill my parents – who wouldn't hurt me, even if someone else was flying my body – but Harry interrupted. And he did some sort of anti-possession spell. I don't remember that part very well. Then I was fine."

Mrs. Malfoy, safely in Mr. Malfoy's arms, made a choking sound. She buried her face in Mr. Malfoy's chest.

When the Healer asked Harry, Harry grinned and wiggled his fingers at the Healer.

"It was a combo move: my mom's protections from that Halloween and some spellwork from my dad's family!"

The Healer paled and frowned. Harry was painfully aware of the Malfoys, Remus' and Sirius' interest in the conversation.

"I need more information on both spells in order to better assess whether there will be any long term effects on Mr. Malfoy or yourself."

"There won't be any negative long term effects. And anyway, anything is better than being possessed and destroyed by Voldemort, right?"

"Nevertheless, you _must_ tell me, Mr. Potter. What may see an unimportant flick of your wrist may have devastating consequences for Mr. Malfoy in the long term."

Harry shook his head. "Won't tell you. They're family secrets."

Badgering him got the Healer nothing more. In fact, Harry drifted off to sleep in the middle of the Healer's impassioned speech about the value of sharing knowledge.

Harry's last thought was '_Wonder if he was a Ravenclaw in school?_'

Harry woke early the next morning. His lit wand clenched in his teeth, Harry quickly jotted a couple notes – one to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the other to Theodore Nott.

Harry slipped out of bed and padded over to the next bed. Sirius was tightly curled up in it as if his subconscious still worried that he was in Azkaban and needed the additional warmth or security. His face was relaxed and his hair was as charmingly mussed as in that memory of Snape's.

'_He looks younger'_ Harry realized. _'But less like himself without his intensity.'_

"Harry" whispered a familiar voice.

Harry's heart clenched in his chest. Harry turned from Sirius' beside. Narcissa Malfoy was standing in the center aisle, looking at him with wide blue eyes.

Harry moved to stand near her, the better not to wake anyone up. When he was within arms' reach, Narcissa Malfoy swept Harry into a tight hug.

"Thank you" she mumbled into his hair. Her arms tightened. "For looking after Draco, I mean."

"You said that's what family does."

Narcissa startled. She laughed; it sounded surprised and faintly watery.

Harry relaxed into the hug, certain now that she was not planning to murder him in some silent, yet spectacularly painful fashion. He knew what was in the Black Family Library, after all.

"I was so frightened" Narcissa murmured, her breath warm puffs of air against Harry's throat. "The Dark Lord killed you. You killed Draco. There was nothing left."

Harry's own arms tightened on her. "I'd never let those things happen."

Narcissa made a soft, strangled noise – part laughter and part sob.

"You're so arrogant. You can't just take risks like that."

Harry shuddered.

"I don't want to end up like Tom Riddle or Albus Dumbledore" he confessed into her platinum locks.

Narcissa's hands clutched him tightly.

"I won't let you" she promised.

Harry let Narcissa Malfoy put him back to bed and waited for her to go back to sleep. Then he slipped out of his hospital bed again.

When Harry gently shook Sirius' shoulder, Sirius woke with a start. He flew into a seated position, his eyes a bit wild as they darted about. When they finally landed on Harry, Sirius immediately relaxed.

"Harry?"

Harry waved his letters at Sirius. "I need to go post these."

His godfather tensed. "No."

"You could come with me" Harry wheedled. "It'll be a godfather-godson bonding adventure. And you'd be right there to make sure that I don't do anything but post the letter."

Sirius hesitated a moment then sighed.

"At least you woke me" he grumbled. "But let's get back before anyone else wakes up."

Harry beamed.

* * *

Two days later Narcissa was laying in the dark and trying to figure out what to do. Her own son sat in a nearby bed, a candle burning on his bedside table, and stared into the darkness surrounding him. At the other end of the ward Harry was sleeping under Sirius' watchful gaze. His schoolmate Remus Lupin, who was another close friend of James Potter if Sirius' stories to Harry were anything to go by, was sleeping in a bed near her cousins. Lupin and Sirius had commandeered the beds on either side of Harry's and he in turn had commandeered their bedside tables with his get well gifts. Draco's acquaintances in Slytherin had been quite generous in their well wishes. Harry's friends and acquaintances had been outright lavish in the quantity, if not the quality of their gifts. (Was that bow-wrapped toilet seat supposed to mean something?) She was quite certain that most of Harry's gifts had come from Gryffindors and Slytherins of various years but she thought she had spied a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws also bringing him cards, candies, and flowers. Lupin seemed to like to keep track of who Harry owed thank you cards to and for what. Sirius quite obviously liked to help Harry eat his sweets.

"Your dad and I used to do this all the time" Sirius said once around a half melted sugarquill. "We'd visit with Remus and sleep in the beds around his."

Not that there was much sleeping going on. The Healer had refused to proscribe Draco Dreamless Sleep potion because of Harry's unknown magics. So every night her poor Draco woke everyone up with his screams. On the third night, while she lay fretting while Lucius rubbed his hand over her belly just as he had when she had been pregnant with Draco and Sirius watched Harry sleep, Harry waited until Lupin drifted off to sleep then tiptoed down the length of the ward to visit with her son.

It was the first time that he had been near Draco since the night that he had rescued Draco from the Chamber of Secrets then performed the Killing Curse on him.

For the thousandth time she wondered what to say to Harry and how to ask him what he had done that night. She also wondered why Albus Dumbledore had yet to discipline Harry.

Behind her, Lucius stiffened. There was the faintest creak of springs as Sirius shifted position. It was probably so that he could better see Harry.

Her son was in the last bed in the ward. Draco himself was sitting up straight in his hospital bed. The candle on his bedside table highlighted the bags under his eyes and the snarls in his hair. Its uneven light made him look wan and gaunt.

He startled when Harry stepped out of the darkness and into his puddle of light.

"H-Harry?"

"How are you?"

Draco looked away. "Fine."

His fingers began to worry at the edge of the blanket.

Harry snorted. "You look like hell."

A faint burst of surprise echoed through Narcissa at Harry's choice of language.

Draco startled. He flashed a glare at Harry then seemed to realize what he was doing and visibly shrunk back into himself.

Narcissa's heart hurt. '_If ever I get the opportunity, I'll kill the Dark Lord for this._'

"R-Really?"

"Yeah. Your hair looks almost as bad as mine usually does."

Draco grimaced. Harry grinned as her darling halfheartedly ran his fingers through his hair.

"How are you really?"

Draco's hand flopped back into his lap. He bit his lip for a moment then whispered, "Afraid."

Harry moved closer to Draco. "Yeah? Of what?"

Draco laughed bitterly. "Tom. The Dark Lord. My body."

"I don't understand that last one."

"You wouldn't. For you defeating You-Know-Who is as easy as breathing."

"Rubbish" said Harry cheerfully. "My mum and dad did all the hard work. I'm just good at living."

Draco gaped. He looked away at the wall on the other side of his bed.

"No one ever possessed your body. You didn't have to watch – to experience –"

Draco's words choked off. His breathing was ragged.

"Once" Harry said, his voice oddly strangled. "Only once."

Narcissa startled. Lucius' arm, like a steel band around her waist, held her in place. At the far end of the ward there was a faint crash as if Sirius had perhaps knocked over some of Harry's get well candies.

Draco's head jerked up, his eyes huge. "When? Who? What happened?"

There was a long, charged silence. Narcissa could practically feel Harry weighing his options. Finally, Harry sighed.

"It was Voldemort" Harry said, ignoring the first question entirely. "He tried to possess me. I'm crap at Occlumency but I'm a bit of a natural Legimens. So when he cracked into my skull, I made him _scream_. And because of my mum's blood magics, he can't touch my body."

'_Blood magics? But those –_'

"How do you _know_ he's gone? That one of them won't come back and – and _take_ you while you're asleep and then you'll be stuck in your own head again and – and he'll – he'll _use_ you and then – and then – you'll end up watching yourself – watching yourself –"

Watching Draco shudder, Narcissa tried not to vomit.

Harry curled his fingers around Draco's shoulder as gently as if Draco were that owl he had such a fondness for.

"Budge over."

Draco blinked at him. "Pardon?"

"Budge over. Let me take a peek."

Draco shuffled over obediently. "I don't understand."

"I'll take a peek in your head" Harry said as he clambered into the bed beside Draco. "I know Tom. And Tom, by the way, is just a younger Voldemort. And I know Voldemort. I'm a decent Legimens. And every Potter has to have a certain level of mastery of soul magics in order to fully inherit the entire estate. If either of them left even a shred of their mind or soul in you, I'll find it."

'_**Soul magics?**_' Narcissa thought anxiously. '_I don't want an untrained Legimens performing __**soul magics**__ on my son!_'

Draco shivered. "But you'd have to come inside me…"

"I won't hurt you" Harry said confidently. The back of his head blocked her view of most of Draco's face so that it was impossible for her to discern Draco's expression. "You trusted me to figure out something was wrong and help you. That's why you started hanging around me again after that detention in the Forbidden Forrest. And I did. I killed that bit of Tom and made Voldemort shove off. Trust me one more time."

Draco shivered. "But you'd _see_…me."

"Yes. But I'll see Voldemort if he's in there with you."

Without looking away from Harry, Draco wrapped his arms around himself. But he slowly nodded his head.

Narcissa tensed. Lucius' fingertips dug into her side, holding her still.

"Watch" he hissed in her ear.

Harry gently moved to cradle Draco's jaw in his hands. He moved until his eyes were presumably looking straight into Draco's.

"Shhhhh" he whispered gently. "Relax. Look into my…"

He never even said the spell.

She watched as Harry's body remained still and alert. Draco's posture, however, slowly relaxed and slumped. Whatever Harry thought he was doing, it was painless.

After a nearly intolerable amount of time had passed, Harry shuddered and leaned back.

"Well?" demanded Draco.

"There's none of him in there. You're just you."

"Either of them? They're both gone?" Draco asked anxiously.

"Tom and Voldemort are the same person" Harry said slowly. "Tom grew up to be Voldemort. But there's none of him in you."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed.

Draco nodded slowly. "I – That is – Would you mind hanging about for awhile? Just – Just in case."

Harry shrugged then leveled the bed out. Draco yelped as he flopped backwards.

"Harry!"

Harry laughed.

When both boys were settled, all Narcissa could see was Harry's profile and a tuft of Draco's hair that seemed to be coming out of Harry's forehead.

Harry flung his arm across Draco's shoulders. "So you know I'm here."

Draco nodded sleepily. "Harry, do you think that Dumbledore will let me re-Sort?"

"Why would you want to do a thing like that?"

"Slytherin's Heir tried to eat my soul and steal my body. I don't think I want to be in his House anymore."

"Voldemort isn't Slytherin's Heir."

"He is too. Everyone knows that."

"No, he _was_ Slytherin's Heir. Then he all but died. I'm Slytherin's Heir now."

Narcissa heard Lucius' sharply indrawn breath and felt it against her back. Her own heart lurched.

"But when Pucey asked –"

"I told him that I had better things to do than run around trying to murder schoolchildren. I never said I _wasn't_ Slytherin's Heir."

"But when he visited Professor Snape said that Professor Dumbledore said that you used Gryffindor's Sword to kill the Basilisk. He said that you're Gryffindor's Heir."

"I am. Pretty ironic, huh?" Harry did not wait for Draco to formulate a reply. Instead he said, "I want you to stay in Slytherin House. I think you could do a lot for the House's reputation."

"You could've done more for it by Sorting into Slytherin in the first place."

"I couldn't Sort into Slytherin."

"Because of your parents."

"And because there's a war coming. Slytherins are smart enough to follow a Gryffindor if he's more than just brave. But because of Voldemort's connection to Slytherin, no Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff would ever follow a Slytherin."

"They hate us" Draco admitted sadly.

"Most of the teachers hate Slytherins" Harry agreed. "Even Professor Dumbledore hates Slytherin House."

Narcissa scowled. '_Harry is __**not**__ making Draco feel better._'

"But you're going to fix that."

"_We're_ going to fix it."

Draco nodded. "We're going to fix it."

There was another long lull in the conversation. Narcissa actually thought the boys were asleep when Harry murmured to Draco.

"How much do you remember from that bit after Voldemort left but before your parents got a hold of you? You know, when it was just us."

Narcissa sucked in a breath. Her entire body was so stiff and taut that it ached.

There was a very long pause.

"You were in my mind."

"I didn't look. That wouldn't have been fair."

Draco snorted. "Gryffindor."

Another nerve wracking pause. Narcissa Malfoy had nearly given up on hearing Draco's answer when he murmured back.

"Not much. I… think I knew things that I can't quite remember properly now. Or maybe I knew you better? I just remember snatches of that stuff. Feelings mostly. And I remember that I was supposed to go somewhere but I can't remember where. Just that you go on or go back."

Narcissa's breath stuttered in her chest. Behind her, even Lucius stopped breathing. Her entire world consisted of Draco's sleepy voice and the pounding of her heart.

"Anything else?"

"I came to you? Or maybe you came for me? You pulled me back though. You said there was a third option. And then you _pulled_. Why? What happened?"

"It doesn't matter. Just – Just be more careful. That's a really tricky bit of old magic and I might not be able to do it again for you."

"I should do my best to avoid being possessed by any more Dark Lords eh?"

"Prat."

"Berk."

"You'd better be careful." Harry said grumpily. "I've gotten used to you being about. I'd hate to have to break in another cousin."

This time both boys remained silent. Sometime while waiting for the boys to keep whispering, between one slow blink and the next, Narcissa fell asleep. She dreamed of the Killing Curse and Harry's eyes and Draco, already out of reach, running further and further away to places where she could not follow.

When Narcissa awoke at dawn, she was gasping for breath. Her dreams had left her sweaty and with a terrible sense of foreboding. She was quite grumpy and out of sorts until she realized, sometime around mid-morning, that Draco had not only slept the rest of the night through but was having a bit of a lie in.

So was Harry.

As she gazed down at the sleeping boys, Narcissa wondered '_What am I going to do about Harry?_'

Narcissa was still wondering about that at lunchtime when a red-headed boy – probably a Weasley – peered around the ward's main door. His eyes latched onto Harry where the Potter was eating lunch with Lupin and Sirius. The redhead raised his eyebrows and made a big production of glancing around. Harry grinned back.

"It's safe. Madam Pomfrey's not about."

The other boy grinned then disappeared around the doorjamb again. A few moments later, the redhead and several other first years trooped into the infirmary. She recognized Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle. There was a Gryffindor boy that could only be the last of the Longbottoms, that Weasley boy with his Gryffindor badge, two boys and a girl in Hufflepuff robes, and a Ravenclaw boy with brutally short hair and secondhand robes. The children moved together with the ease of familiarity. All of the children had their bookbags on their backs but the Gryffindors, the Hufflepuff girl, Daphne, and the Ravenclaw boy had their arms filled with books. Theodore, Gregory, Vincent, and the two Hufflepuff boys were all carrying cauldrons filled with potions supplies.

Harry beamed at them. "You came!"

"Loads of times" the Weasley protested. "You just wouldn't wake up!"

Harry grimaced. Daphne Greengrass plucked a chocolate frog box off of Harry's overflowing bedside table.

"Someone with this many sweets shouldn't be so grumpy!" she scolded as she popped the struggling candy into her mouth.

Harry grinned. "Help yourselves."

The children abandoned their school supplies on an empty bed then fell on Harry's piles of sweets with single-minded enthusiasm.

The Weasley boy pointed to the toilet seat. "Fred and George?"

Harry grinned. "Who else?"

Eventually the children were full of sweets and apparently ready to get down to business. Well, more or less anyway.

"You just woke up" the Weasley whined. "We should be playing chess!"

"I'm behind on my study schedule" Harry said mildly as he transfigured a nearby bed into a long and sturdy-looking wooden table. "Hermione would never forgive me if I got too far off track."

The Weasley wilted. He shot a guilty look at the part of the hospital wing that had been curtained off. Narcissa understood that to be where the Petrified students were being stored.

"Yeah. Reckon I'm a bit behind too" he mumbled.

Sirius sighed, evidently disappointed by Harry's desire to study with his peers.

"If you've brought a board, Remus and I might play a game or two."

The Weasley pulled a board and two sets of pieces – his own and Harry's – as well as a deck of cards and two sets of Gobbstones out of his bookbag. He passed all of them to Sirius.

"Have fun" he said a trifle gloomily.

It was one thing to hear from Draco and Lucius' sources at the Ministry that Harry was quite advanced magically. It was another thing entirely to watch him casually perform more advanced magics. The table completed, Harry swished his wand at another two empty beds which separated themselves into four lumps each then turned themselves into chairs. Eight chairs skittered over to settle under the table. Harry's get well sweets ended up heaped in the center of the table.

Frankly, it was shocking and a bit frightening.

All eight children set up their school things around the table. Harry ended up at a seat in a seat near the middle. The books the Gryffindor boys, the Hufflepuff girl, and Daphne had been carrying turned out to be Harry's school books. The Longbottom pulled an extra couple of bottle of ink out of his bag as well as a few spare quills which he passed to Harry. Two schedules found their way to the middle of the table – one for Harry and one for everyone else.

Potter was busy brewing a silvery potion while the Longbottom quietly explained something about Devil's Snare to Daphne, the two Hufflepuff boys were quizzing the Ravenclaw boy on the uses of aconite in potions, and the Weasley, Vincent, and Gregory practiced potions with the Hufflepuff girl. Theodore, his expression unusually determined, plucked a cauldron cake from the pile in the center of the table and ambled the length of the ward to her Draco.

He was the only first year to openly acknowledge her son.

Theodore stopped quite a distance from Draco.

"Malfoy" he said evenly.

It was a cold greeting, especially from someone who had such close ties to the Malfoy family.

"Nott" Draco said stiffly.

"Harry says that what you did wasn't your fault. That we shouldn't hold the attacks against you."

Draco had often complained that Harry and Theodore Nott were close. Apparently the Potter's opinions carried some weight with the younger Nott. Since Harry's opinions seemed to be benefitting Draco, it was hard to complain at the moment. But Harry's undue influence among the younger Slytherins would certainly bear some consideration.

But when had Harry spoken to any of the children about Draco?

"What do you think?"

"I don't like you at the moment" Nott said frankly. Such honesty was clearly a bad habit that he had picked up from his Gryffindor compatriots. "You've been a berk all year. But you weren't always so bad. I'm willing to give you a second chance."

He tossed the cauldron cake at Draco. It was an entirely vulgar display.

Draco's face lit up with his grin.

"Want to join us?"

Draco hesitated, uncertainty flitting across his expression. "Are you sure it's… okay?"

Theodore Nott shrugged. "It's fine. The Hufflepuffs are welcome and they don't even have a cursed object to blame their behavior on."

Interesting. What sort of behavior was Theodore alluding to?

Draco hurried to Theodore's side in an unseemly display of eagerness. "I don't have my school things."

"You can borrow a quill and parchment off of me. And we can share my books and ink" Theodore said as they walked away.

By the time they arrived at the table, there was a ninth chair waiting for Draco. Harry, the only one with the power and knowledge necessary to conjure it, was studiously shredding garlic for whatever he was brewing.

Narcissa settled back with Lucius to watch the children.

'_What __**am**__ I going to do about Harry Potter?_'


	23. Chapter 23

Geez, I don't update for about a month and people start worrying that I won't finish. *is appalled* Anyway, sorry this took so long but my laptop was recently broken. I lost all my homework, stories, papers, everything. Obviously, I had to mourn. (Especially for Dealing With Demons since that fic was FINISHED and just needed to be posted.) As a result, I'm behind on everything and I've been using other people's laptops. (Which is tricky when you start a story or paper on one only to find that another one has an earlier version of Word so they can't open your partially finished wwork. You end up with a lot of 'shards' of work.)

Thanks for all the super nice reviews! They're deeply inspiring and without them I might not have worked up the will to retype this chapter.

As always, I don't own Harry Potter's character, copyright, trademark, or franchise. This is for fun, not profit.

* * *

It was the nature of Hogwarts that things which were supposed to be secrets tended to be the most well-known and most discussed pieces of information in the castle. Long before Harry escaped from the Hospital Wing, everyone knew that he had led a group of Gryffindors down the forbidden third floor corridor to steal the Philosopher's Stone, stormed the Chamber of Secrets to save Draco Malfoy, and defeated Voldemort _twice_. Even Hagrid, who had never been much for paying attention to gossip much less paying attention to the _students'_ gossip, had heard some of the rumors and speculations that now surrounded Harry's name.

"They're saying that you're the Heir of Slytherin" Hagrid snorted. "As if a Potter could be a Slytherin!"

"I am" Harry said, without looking up from his new photo album. Not all of the pictures were exactly the same as the ones he remembered from the original timeline, but his favorites were still there. "A Potter and a Slytherin, I mean."

Hagrid startled violently and cursed. "Yeh mean that's _true_?"

"Yeah. By way of my mum." Harry glanced up at his first friend. He pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. "Muggleborns have to come from somewhere, right?"

"But _Slytherin_?"

"And Ravenclaw." Harry grinned. "She's even on both their family trees."

"So yeh are Slytherin's Heir?"

"Yeah."

"Well." Hagrid shifted then shifted again. The hospital bed Hagrid was sitting on creaked alarmingly. His discomfort, Harry decided, was probably more mental than anything else. "_Well_."

"That a problem?"

Hagrid shook his head, his messy hair flying everywhere. "Nah. Yeh're still Harry, aren't you? And at least you're not a Parselmouth, right?"

Harry remained very still and quiet.

"_Right?_"

"It's not as useful a skill as you might think" Harry said apologetically.

Hagrid passed one of his hands over his face. "Could yeh're mother…?"

Harry shrugged, a lance of pain shooting through his heart. "I don't know."

"Not plannin' on becomin' the next Dark Lord, are you?"

Harry snickered. "The Dark Lord Potter? It's too weird. I think I'll just stick to just being Harry."

Hagrid beamed.

Harry grinned back. "Hagrid? Can I ask you something?"

"Sure thing, Harry!"

Harry focused, really focused, all of his attention on Hagrid's friendly face.

"Can… Can a unicorn counter a basilisk's venom?" Remembering the searing, stabbing pain, Harry added "Maybe by stabbing the poisoned person with its horn?"

Hagrid frowned. "That's a rare bit of magic, Harry, on account of not many unicorns liking wizards very much. They don't even usually like witches that much, either."

"But they can do it? Heal someone dying of basilisk's poison?"

Hagrid frowned, his wild eyebrows drawing down over his beetle black eyes.

"Aye, they can do it. But they don't do it often. Not unless…"

His wild eyebrows jerked up.

"Unless what?" Harry demanded.

"Nuthin.' Least, don't worry about anythin' until I check a few things."

Harry nodded.

"Alright it's just… Whatever it is won't kill me or anything, right?"

"No, no, no." Hagrid waved one huge hand at him. "It's nuthin' bad. Nuthin' yeh should worry 'bout, even if… Unicorns are pure things. And yeh haven't done anythin' wrong, Harry."

Harry gulped. _'I wonder how unicorns feel about time travel?'_

Remus proved that, although Sirius' timing was poor at best, his own was flawless. He and Sirius stayed just long enough for Harry to feel comforted and loved but not long enough for Harry to get around to gloating about being utterly and completely right about Quirrelmort no matter what logic or Remus claimed.

'_Oh well'_ Harry thought as he settled down to study for his individualized exams. _'I'll be staying with them this summer. That's plenty of time to razz them about not listening to me.'_

Exams passed quickly and with a minimum fuss. It was a bit odd not to have Hermione trying to go over each question after the fact with them though. Since the Basilisk was dead, the students were allowed to resume the quidditch season. Wood might have even cried a tear or two when they heard the news.

Harry promptly went to challenge Wilhelmina Roper to a game of pick-up quidditch on the very last day before everyone left on the trains. She flushed oddly but agreed quickly.

The first through fourth years finished their exams first; then the fifth years, then sixth years and finally the seventh years. The first through fourth years' marks were posted before the fifith years even finished taking their O.W.L.s. Harry met with the first and second year recipients of his scholarships the same day that their marks were posted.

Rather than borrowing one of the professors' offices or using the room off of the Great Hall, Harry decided to use the classroom where he had taught his O.W.L. tutorials during the school year.

Dean was first. That was a bit awkward in the sense that they were roommates and sort of friendly. There was no way that Harry was going to go back on what he had said to Dumbledore, however.

"Professor McGonagall gave me a copy of your marks" Harry said awkwardly, after he and Dean had stared at each other for a few minutes in silence. "You did well, especially in Charms and Astronomy."

"Thanks" Dean said as he shifted awkwardly in his seat.

"Look, I know you like to draw. And you're good at it. Have you considered doing stuff like the portraits and the ceiling in the Great Hall when you grow up?"

Dean stared. "I – No. I mean, well, we're not really grown up yet."

Harry shrugged. "No but –"

"I mean I'd love to do something with my art when I grow up but, well, I'm not that good. It's just a bit of fun and –"

"Look, why don't I just get you some art lessons?"

Dean stared. "Harry, why would you do something like that?"

"Why not? I can afford it."

Dean flushed. "Harry I don't – I can't – I'm on a scholarship, not charity!"

Harry winced.

"I didn't mean it like that. It's not meant to be charity. It's just – What's the point of putting you through school if you aren't prepared to do the mastery that you really want? If you think you'd like to paint magical portraits or rediscover the magic in the Great Hall's ceiling then you'll need a certain skill set to land the right apprenticeships. If the art lessons will help you achieve your dreams and make the scholarship worthwhile, then take them. If you don't want that sort of future, then don't take them. It's up to you. And if you change your mind, just owl me."

Dean was blinking at Harry very oddly. "I need to think about this."

Harry nodded. "Take all the time you'd like. See you at dinner?"

"Yeah. Sure. Later."

Warrick Roper was actually easier to talk with, despite the fact that Harry spent more social time with him than with Dean Thomas.

"Professor Flitwick gave me a copy of your marks" Harry said. "You're brilliant. You did well overall but is there anything you're really interested in?"

"Potions and Charms."

Those two subjects actually meshed well together.

"Any extracurricular interests?"

"Muggle culture."

Harry blinked. "I thought you wanted to take Muggle Studies."

"Oh but it's not the same thing at all!"

And then Warrick was off and running, telling Harry all about the differences between Muggle Studies – which was taught by a pureblood who had never actually lived in the muggle world – and actual muggle culture as he understood it.

Warrick's dearest desire seemed to be to spend a large amount of time living in the muggle world.

That meeting devolved into discussing televisions – Warrick had never seen one but he was fascinated byt the entire concept of them – and they ended up going to lunch together.

The meetings with the second years after lunch were awkward and not nearly as much fun as meeting with Warrick Roper had been.

The next morning Harry met with the third year scholarship recipients. The boy, Adam Trent, was a muggleborn in Hufflepuff. His marks were not outstanding but he was a cheerful, friendly sort so the meeting was far from unpleasant. What really interested Harry about him was that he was an orphan who lived in a modern, muggle orphanage.

"Can I ask what it's like?" Harry asked, made interested in the subject by his relatives' threats when he was younger and by Voldemort's memories.

Adam was careful in his descriptions. It was not nearly as grim as Dumbledore's memory of Tom's homevisit painted it to be but it seemed far from pleasant either. Adam had always been the odd child out thanks to his accidental magic and his scholarship to a private school in Scotland had made him even less popular with the other children.

Adam was openly gloomy at the prospect of going home for the summer.

When Harry's meeting with Adam finally ended, Harry's thoughts were spinning and tumbling with plots and ideas. But as soon as Wilhelmina Roper slipped into the room, Harry said "You're trying out for the Ravenclaw team next year."

The older girl startled. "Pardon?"

"Two of Ravenclaw's chasers and a beater are graduating this year. So next year, you're trying out for the Ravenclaw team. I bet you'll get one of the Chaser positions easily."

Wilhelmina glared at Harry, her cheeks pink. "I'm only at Hogwarts at all because I'm on your on scholarship. I can't afford to try out for the quidditch team."

"If you make the team, I'll buy your broom."

Wilhelmina startled badly. "Why would you do that?"

"I like a good game." Harry grinned. "Congratulations on your marks by the way. Got a favorite subject?"

"Transfiguration."

Harry nodded. "Good to know."

His meetings with the fourth years after lunch were as boring as the ones with the second years had been. They were infinitely more awkward though since the fourth years were uncertain how to behave with him. It was obvious that to them he was a little kid but he was a ridiculously wealthy one who could choose not to renew their scholarships. They kept asking why Professor Dumbledore was no longer administering the scholarships.

Harry just grinned. "Because he's not."

Harry took advantage of the gap between the end of exams for the upper and lower years to briefly research variations on a Wizard's Oath.

"Ron, Neville" Harry said one morning after breakfast as he led them back to the Gryffindor common room. "I need you to run a bit of interference for me."

"Let us come along!"

"How're your Occlumency exercises coming along?" asked Harry who knew quite well that Ron's mind was quite a bit more organized but still utterly open. Neville was quite a bit better. He naturally had more talent at Occlumency than either Harry or Ron but his shaky confidence made his potentially formidable defenses worthless.

Ron and Neville scowled at Harry. Harry grined back.

"C'mon. Once I finish this bit, we'll go manage some proper mischief."

Both boys grudgingly nodded. So they followed Harry up into the dormitory where Harry put on his invisibility cloak and grabbed the map. Chess board and pieces gathered the other two boys trooped down the stairs and out of the portrait hole. Harry, invisible and wedged between them both, went through the portrait hole with them.

Harry used the map to wait for a time when the second floor girls' loo was empty before he darted inside and sealed the door. Myrtle was off somewhere (which explained why there were living girls in the loo at all) so Harry took off his cloak and called up the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

"_**Open. Stairs."**_

Harry rode the steps down to the passageway to the Chamber. Once there it was easy to navigate his way back to the chamber with the dead basilisk and Gryffindor's Sword.

The dead serpent had not yet even begun to rot.

Harry, making certain to stand well away from the poisonous fangs, Summoned Gryffindor's Sword to him. The hilt fit as nicely in his childish hand as it had when he had first pulled it from the Sorting Hat.

Harry quickly retraced his steps to the entrance. He was just unsealing the girls' loo when Myrtle, crying hysterically, burst through one of the walls.

"Who's there?" she demanded around her sobs.

Harry stayed silent under his invisibility cloak as he hurried to esacpe the bathroom.

"Oh I see how it is!" shrieked Myrtle as the door slammed shut behind him. "Let's hide from Moaning Myrtle! She's such a drag!"

As he hurried down the hallway Harry felt a bit bad for Mr. Filch. Myrtle was going to make a mess of the bathroom and hallway.

Sword in hand, Harry used the map to make his way to the Room of Requirement. He specifically called up the room where things that needed to be hidden went.

It was easy to find Ravenclaw's diadem. It was even easier to whack it with Gryffindor's Sword.

The hardest bit was listening to the piece of Tom's soul _scream_ while it passed on.

'_Only the locket, the snake, the ring, and the cup left_' Harry thought grimly as he went in search of Ron and Neville. '_And I can probably do the locket and ring this summer._'

Ron and Neville were happy to smuggle Harry and the Sword of Gryffindor back into the Tower. After that, they settled down to plan their end of year prank.

The day after O.W.L.s ended, Harry met with his fifth year recipients. They came in together.

"Hullo Harry" said Cecil Timmonson with a tired smile.

"How were exams?" Amara asked.

They chatted together easily for awhile. Cecil wanted to become a researcher. He especially seemed to want to study the effects of combining arthimacy and various forms of runes with charms. Amara wanted to become an auror. Both thought that they had done well on their Defense exams.

Meeting with the sixth years was every bit as awful as meeting with the fourth years had been. Harry was fairly certain that they had both gone to complain to Dumbledore about him as soon as they left his classroom.

It was easy to deal with the seventh years. Meeting with the seventh years, the most recent batch of hopeful Hogwarts graduates, required a few butterbeers, a couple of complimentary bottles of Firewiskey smuggled in from Hogsmede, and a bunch of heartfelt well wishes.

There were a few more golden days left at Hogwarts before the very last day before the Leaving Feast and the train ride home. The end of year quidditch scrimmage was as well attended as the first one had been but Harry still missed the Petrified students. With exams finally all finished, and everything but the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s scored, it was soon the morning of the Leaving Feast. When Harry went down to the Great Hall, it was decked out in Slytherin's colors and banners.

Across the room, Professor Dumbledore caught Harry's gaze with his own twinkling blue orbs.

Harry, seated between Neville and Ron with the Weasley twins seated across from him, felt a sudden burst of foreboding.

"I wish they'd hurry up and find a cure for being Petrified" Ron said, unusually gloomy compared to most of the other students. In one hand he clutched Harry's camera. "Hermione's going to freak out over all the classes and exams she missed!"

"She'll be fine" Harry said cheerfully. "We'll help her catch up, she'll cream us on exams, and everything'll be back to normal."

"At this rate, she'll be a year behind us!"

"No matter when they wake her up, we'll help her catch up" Harry said firmly, unable to imagine being a year ahead of Hermione. "We'll just take e –"

"Shut up you lot" Oliver Wood hissed down the length of the table. "Dumbledore's standing up to formally award us the Quidditch Cup!"

Grinning at his captain's entheisiasm, Harry shut up.

Harry let Dumbledore's chatter wash over him. Of course they won the Quidditch Cup. Oliver Wood, who had accepted it on behalf of the team, was staring at it with the sort of devotion a man usually bestowed on his one true love. Harry was positive that the last thing that Oliver Wood heard that school year was "-this year the Quidditch Cup goes to Gryffindor!"

"The house points stand thus: in fourth place Gryffindor House with two hundred and ninety-three points, in third place Hufflepuff House with four hundred and fifty-two points, in second place Ravenclaw House with four hundred and eighty-one points, and in first place Slytherin House with five hundred and thirty-six points."

A storm of cheering erupted at Slytherin table. Across the room, Harry could see his friends shouting and hugging each other.

"Yes, yes, well done Slytherin House but recent events must be taken into account."

Everyone in the Great Hall went very still, particularly Slytherin House. Harry's heart began to pound. He knew what was coming next and he knew what he _should_ do. He had very carefully planned what to do if Dumbledore tried to rearrange the House points. Even the Sorting Hat agreed that the plan was necessary otherwise Dumbledore would undo all of Harry's hardwork in reaching out to Slytherin House. But actually doing what he planned – if he really did it – well, Harry would be lucky to leave the Great Hall alive and in one piece.

And next year would be hellish, with or without Hermione and the other Petrified people.

"Ahem. I have a few last minute points to dish out. Let's see…"

Ron and Hermione got the same points awarded to them as in the original timeline. When Harry was awarded sixty points for "his foresight, and pure nerve," Harry slipped his hand into his right pocket. His hand gripped the Elder Wand tightly.

Everyone in Gryffindor House was beside themselves with the addition of one hundred and sixty points to their final count. Gryffindor House was now in third place with four hundred and fifty-three points.

Neville received fifty points for "bravery and pure nerve."

"And finally" Professor Dumbledore said over the wild murmurs in three of the four Houses "for bravely rescuing another student, even at the risk of his own life, when hope was all but lost, I award to Mr. Harry Potter of Gryffindor House two hundred points."

The Great Hall exploded with sound. People were hugging Harry and crying and shaking his free hand and pounding him on the back. Even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were clapping and cheering. When Professor Dumbledore waved his new wand, the Slytherin banners and colors changed into their Gryffindor equivalents. Even the silver plates and goblets switched to golden ones.

Harry wanted to be violently ill.

'_You're our Heir but you won't save us!'_

Jeremiah's accusation rang through Harry's head.

'_We'll change Slytherin House.'_

Harry's courage firmed itself up.

In all of the commotion, and with so many of the Gryiffindors stomping and jumping on the benches, no one seemed to think it odd when Harry stood on the bench. He locked his trembling knees and pulled out the Elder Wand.

A swish and a flick later, and the cheering students in the hall were as silent as the ominously still and white-faced Slytherins.

"Harry Potter!" shouted Professor McGonagall. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Professor McGonagall," Harry viciously forced the tremor out of his voice, "is it better to do what is right or what is easy?"

She stared at him as she said slowly, "A Gryffindor must always do what is right, rather than what is easy, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded. "None of us did those things for the house points. They were more important than house points. We did them because they were the _right_ thing to do. But this isn't right. It's just cruel."

Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands. Instantly the room was filled with soft murmurs. The Headmaster's gaze was not twinkling.

Harry allowed his gaze to drift to Professor Snape. The sallow man was watching Harry with glittering black eyes and an expression that Harry had never seen the man direct toward himself. He had seen a much younger Severus Snape direct that look toward a much younger Lily Evans. It was surprise… and approval.

"Professor, if there must be last minute additions to the point tallies then there should be some last minute subtractions. I've broken into Hufflepuff's, Ravenclaw's, and Slytherin's common rooms."

"Twenty points for each offense, Mr. Potter" said Professor McGonagall.

"Harry, stop!" shouted Seamus Finnigan. "That's enough!"

Dean Thomas and several of the other Gryffindors moved to grab Harry and drag him off of the bench.

"I did too!" shouted Ron Weasley as he scrambled up to stand beside Harry. He shoved at the grasping older students' hands. "I broke into Slytherin's common room with Harry!"

"Me too!" said Neville, scrambling to stand up on Harry's other side. "I went into Slytherin with Ron and Harry!"

"Twenty points each, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom."

Harry reached into his left pocket. He withdrew the Sorting Hat, drawing whispers and gasps from the other students. He plopped it on his head.

"When the Sorting Hat was first stolen, I believe it was announced that if it was not returned both immediately and anonymously then the culprit would cost his or her House one hundred and fifty points and spend the rest of the year in detention."

'_Sorry'_ Harry thought miserably.

"_At least you didn't do this to me to __**win**__"_ the Hat murmured, its disgruntlement and disappointment clear in its mental voice.

Professor Snape's mouth twitched. Professors Sprout and Flitwick were staring at Harry as if he was some new and fascinating specimen.

"You are correct." Professor McGonagall was clearly horrified but her voice was steady and unrelenting. "One hundred and fifty points from Gryffindor."

"And I'll see you every weeknight next year, Mr. Potter" added Professor Snape.

Slytherin House burst into cheers.

It was the only table celebrating.

'_I'll see you soon'_ Harry promised the Hat as Professor Dumbledore Summoned it from Harry's head.

Harry swished the Elder Wand. Everything in the Grat Hall melted back into its original Slytherin motif.

When Harry sat down, most of Gryffindor was staring at him with either hard expressions or complete disbelief. Ron and Neville, on either side of him, were spared the brunt of Gryffindor House's displeasure due to their close physical proximity to Harry.

"How could you _do_ that?" demanded one of the sixth years as food appeared on the table.

"It was the right thing to do."

"It was the stupidest thing I've ever seen anyone do!"

That comment seemed to open the floodgates on the other Gryffindors' disapproval. Their shouts and insults were so loud that Harry, with his back to the rest of the Great Hall, never heard it happen. One moment, he, Ron, and Neville were enduring the worst possible verbal abuse their housemates could think of.

The next moment Kevin Noxias, the Larkins siblings, and the Greengrass sisters were sitting between Neville Longbottom and the rest of Gryffindor House. Daphne smiled brightly at Neville. Noxias rolled his eyes at Harry.

"This doesn't make us _friends_" Noxias sneered. "Personally, I don't even like you."

Stoke Brocklehurst shoved the sixth year sitting next to Ron so that there was room for her, the Timmonson twins, and Adam Trent between Ron and the rest of Gryffindor House.

"Budge over" Theodore Nott said to Fred Weasley. He, Draco Malfoy, Hannah Abbot, Ernie MacMullen, and Justin Finch-Fletchley sat down between Fred and the fourth year that was sitting next to Fred. Mildred Bulstrode, the Ropers, Crabbe, Goyle and one of the fifth year Slytherin girls that Harry had never been particularly friendly with, Rose Vance, sat next to George Weasley. Seated between the Weasley twins, Lee Jordan was looking a bit squashed.

It was probably house elf magic that made the table and benches stretch to accommodate all of the extra students. It was definitely house elf magic that made extra plates, cups, utensils, and serving plates, heaped high with tasty foods, appear on top of the new sections of table.

Harry's heart swelled with joy. It was one of the best moments in Harry's life. Ever.

* * *

The train ride home was as pleasant and bittersweet as ever. People kept dropping in to visit with Harry or to subtly (and not so subtly) ask about Harry's summer plans since Jeremiah LeStrange was still at Hogwarts and Petrified and unable to subtly manipulate Harry's social calander for him. Harry played several rounds of exploding snap with everyone and lost three rounds of chess to Ron. Harry also treated everyone in the car to lunch from the witch's snack trolley. By the time the the train rolled into Kings Cross station, several people had promised to owl Harry invites to visit over the summer. As they changed out of their robes, Harry promised to go and stay with Ron during their months off. At Draco's dismayed expression, Harry bumped his shoulder into Draco's.

"Maybe we'll find time to get you up to scratch as a chaser, yeah?"

Draco smiled and nodded. "Yeah."

Ron scowled.

The very last thing that Harry did on the train was to pocket his coin purse and transfigure his school trunk into a wristwatch. With his wands in the right pocket of his coat, his wristwatch on his left wrist, and his coin purse in his left pocket, Harry followed the Weasleys off on the train.

On the platform was a press of humanity as families welcomed their children home. Harry's eyes skipped over the adults, lingering on the adult men with dark hair.

'_Where's Sirius? Is Remus ill?'_

As Harry, Draco, Theodore, Daphne, Crabbe, Goyle, Neville, and the Weasley brothers moved along the platform, joking and laughing, people either shouted cheerful goodbyes to Harry or ignored him entirely.

Theodore, his expression smoothing from laughter into blankness, waved then peeled off to meet an elderly wizard that Harry recognized as his dad.

Crabbe and Goyle said their goodbyes, shoved Draco's shoulder in a friendly fashion as they promised to visit him later in the summer, kept a safe distance from Harry when they said that they would see him later, then trotted off to meet their parents.

Both boys bore a shocking resemblance to their mothers.

'_They've got to be sisters. Crabbe and Goyle are cousins, then.'_

Daphne, her face alight with glee, ran to hug her mother. Mrs. Greengrass hugged all of them – even the Gryffindors – and asked about their year.

"Interesting" Harry said with a grin as Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy joined them.

"Draco" Mrs. Malfoy breathed as she pulled Draco into a hug. She clutched him close as if she had been afraid that he was going to die during the few short weeks that they were apart.

Harry kicked a snickering Ron in the ankle as his eyes scanned the platform for Remus and Sirius again.

"Harry" Mr. Malfoy said; his tone was formal.

Harry blinked, his attention returning to his immediate surroundings just in time to get a glimpse of Narcissa's expression before she swept Harry into a firm hug.

Happy. Relieved. Warm.

Harry relaxed into Narcissa Malfoy's embrace, his arms just as tight around her as hers were around him.

"I'm glad that you're still safe too, Harry" she murmured into his hair.

For one moment, Harry forgot to be worried about Sirius or Remus.

"Thanks, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Narcissa, Harry."

When Narcissa Malfoy finally released him, Mrs. Greengrass looked a bit misty-eyed. Mr. Greengrass rolled his eyes at Mr. Malfoy. Mrs. Weasley had joined them at some point and was just finishing hugging Ron. She looked like someone might if she was trying to smile despite sucking on a lemon. Ginny was peeking around her.

"Mrs. Weasley!"

"Hullo, Harry dear."

"Thanks for the Christmas gifts! They were brilliant!"

Mrs. Weasley beamed. "Thank you, dear. We did get your thank you and Christmas cards, Harry dear. They were quite lovely."

Harry beamed. Narcissa's eyes narrowed.

Nearby, Mrs. Longbottom had a hand on either of Neville's shoulders. She was peering down at him, her eyes critical. The angle of her head made her vulture hat tip forward alarmingly.

Under her gaze, Neville fidgeted and peered down at his feet.

Harry took a step forward, uncertain if he could help Neville but definitely willing to give it a try. If the Battle of Hogwarts had taught him nothing else, it had shown him that Neville had been _right _to fear his gran. She let her brother nearly murder him on a regular basis and was vicious in a duel.

'_She's probably like the Dursleys – the last person that Neville's parents wanted to raise him.'_

"Hmmm… I don't see it. But if the owls from Hogwarts are true, then you're coming along quite nicely Neville."

Neville flushed. "Thank you, Gran."

"Where are your relatives, Harry?" asked Mrs. Greengrass.

The anxiousness returned. "I don't know. I thought Sirius and Remus would be here but I haven't seen them yet."

"Maybe they're laying in wait on the other side of the barrier" Narcissa Malfoy said. Her cheerfulness did not belay the way her eyes darkened. "Let's go have a look, shall we?"

When they stepped through the barrier, Harry was greeted by the last voice he ever expected to hear again.

"_There _you are."

Harry's stomach dropped down to his knees.


	24. Chapter 24

This is for fun not profit. I have no rights or responsibilities to or within the Harry Potter franchise, copyright, characters, or trademarks.

Sorry for the long delay but I've already made my excuses. Hopefully the slightly longer length of the chapter will help to soothe that injustice.

* * *

Sirius was up in his room, trying to transfigure one of his robes into a replica of that silly leather jacket he used to own, when the Headmaster flooed.

"Good morning, Remus."

Remus grinned at the Headmaster. "Good morning, Headmaster! Let me get Sirius – He's still working on his muggle clothes for when we picked up Harry."

The Headmaster's eyes lost a bit of their twinkle.

"I'd like a word with you first about young Harry, if you don't mind Mr. Lupin."

Remus found himself nodding. "We've already got the third bedroom prepared. And Sirius has every day up through July sixteenth planned." Remus laughed, running his hands through his hair. "Sirius spent the morning making treacle tarts for Harry. They're a bit burned but –"

"Remus, it would be best for young Mr. Potter if he went home to his muggle relatives." Remus' breath whooshed out of him, as if the Headmaster had hit him in the stomach. Breathless and gasping, Remus sagged. As if from a distance, through the pounding of his pulse, he head Professor Dumbledore kindly say "Perhaps Harry can come to see you later in the summer."

"But Sirius— Sirius will be so disappointed."

"As I understand it, Mr. Black isn't quite ready yet for Mr. Potter's visit. He still doesn't have the right to carry a wand and he's still hasn't been cleared by the mind healer. You're still his magical guardian, are you not?"

"Until he wins his trial" Remus said through numb lips. "But Sirius is so much better than he was. He's been working really hard so that we can all be together again!"

Professor Dumbledore leveled a severe look at Remus. "All together _again_? Remus, despite his looks, young Harry isn't James. You have never, nor will you ever, be all together _again_. Perhaps Sirius is not the only one who isn't entirely ready for Harry's visit."

Remus flinched. "No, I didn't mean –"

"A delay would allow you and Sirius to finish sorting out your emotions." Professor Dumbledore was so kind, so understanding, that Remus' words dried up. Feeling as guilty as he had while still at Hogwarts, Remus hung his head as Professor Dumbledore added, "A delay will allow you to be truly prepared to be Harry's… mentors. Anyway, it's been nearly a year since Harry last went home to see his muggles. He saw you and Sirius at Christmas. You wouldn't want to deny Harry the opportunity to reconnect with his only living relatives would you?"

Remus shook his head, mute and unhappy.

'_I'm so selfish. Harry isn't mine.'_ Remus reminded himself harshly, his grasping fingertips digging into the tops of his thighs. _'He was never my pack mate or my son to fuss over or coddle or teach… but he's James' son. And he's Lily's son. And he's the only real piece of themselves that they left behind for us. And we promised them. And Professor Dumbledore doesn't think that we're responsible enough to protect him, to care for him… I'll show him. We'll show him. We aren't so selfish that we can't do what's best for Harry.'_

The thoughts of 'we' brought thoughts of Sirius.

"It would be best for Harry to go home to his muggles."

Remus nodded, his eyes focused on the worn flagstones under his knees. His stupid, treacherous heart _ached_ as he mumbled, "How will I tell Sirius?"

"Don't worry Remus," Professor Dumbledore said kindly. "I'll take care of everything."

* * *

Harry's stomach dropped down to his knees. Slowly, like a girl in a horror movie, Harry turned to face his worst fear. Uncle Vernon, purple-faced and seething, glared at him. Behind him, Dudley and Aunt Petunia were white-faced and frightened.

"What're you doing here?" Harry blurted. "The papers –"

"Got a ruddy bird from your school" Uncle Vernon snarled; his eyes on Hedwig in her cage. "Your headmaster _insisted_."

Uncle Vernon narrowed his eyes distrustfully at the people Harry was standing with. All of the adults, even friendly Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Greengrass, looked back with varying levels of open dislike or hostility.

"Hurry up, boy!" snapped Aunt Petunia, her eyes wide with fear. "We haven't got all day."

Nearby, Dudley was pressing his back into the nearest wall.

Harry numbly waved at his friends. "I'll see you later."

"Harry –" Narcissa Malfoy began, taking a step forward.

Harry dredged up a weak grin for her. "Don't worry, Mrs. Malfoy. I'll definitely write."

"Harry!" This time Narcissa's voice was sharp.

"It'll be fine. I'll get this sorted then go stay with Sirius." Harry, painfully aware of everyone else's attention, waved in what he hoped was a careless fashion. "Later!"

He staggered after his aunt and uncle as the marched away from the platform. Dudley sidled after them, careful to keep an eye on both Harry and the people he had been walking with.

Harry tried to figure what had gone wrong.

When they got to the car park, Harry hung back rather than getting into the car as he was told to.

"I don't understand" he said. "Didn't you sign the papers to emancipate me?"

"Yes!" snapped Uncle Vernon. "I _told_ you that your Headmaster _insisted_ that we take you home anyway."

"But you're not my legal guardians anymore."

"Of course not!" shrilled Aunt Petunia. "The stupid bird didn't wait for a reply! We even brought the papers today to prove to _someone_ that we shouldn't have to take you with us."

"Then don't."

"Pardon?"

"Don't take me with you. Leave me here. I'll be fine."

Uncle Vernon and Dudley were in the car before Harry had finished speaking.

Aunt Petunia, however, narrowed her eyes at Harry. "Where will you go?"

"I found my dad's best mates. One of them was supposed to have been my guardian all along, anyway. He promised to finish raising me."

Just saying it, to Aunt Petunia of all people, lit a spark of anger in Harry's belly.

'_Where __**is**__ Sirius anyway?_'

"And where is this best mate?"

"He has a house in London" Harry said vaguely, glorying in the way his growing fury burned away his worry and fear and shock. For the first time since he had gotten off of the train, Harry felt every day of his proper age. _'I'm an adult. I don't need her or Sirius or anyone!'_ Harry thought fiercely as he opened his mouth to say, "I'm supposed to take the Wizarding bus there."

Mentioning the Knight Bus was _more_ than enough to kill any interest Aunt Petunia might have had in his plans.

"We'll be off then" she sniffed. "Have a nice life. And _don't_ list any of us as potential guardians for any freaks you may one day spawn."

Harry rolled his eyes, a quick, sloppy plan to turn this mess to his advantage already forming in his mind. Immediately he started working on the wording, doing his best to twist it to his advantage.

"Make me a promise and neither I nor any child I will ever have will ever darken your doorstep again. Ever."

His aunt narrowed her eyes at him. "What promise?"

"If you or Dudley ends up having a child like me or my Mum – a magical son or daughter – you'll give the kid to me."

Aunt Petunia startled. "There won't _be_ another child like you and Lily."

Harry shook his head. "You and Dudley are the exceptions. Your mum and dad were both from really old Wizarding families. There _will be_ another magical child from you or Dudley. Eventually. And when there is, I want you to give the kid to me. I don't want you to starve or lock away or swing frying pans at another little boy or girl."

Her eyes narrowed. "It sounds so terrible when you say it."

"It _was _terrible" Harry snarled. "And I'm not okay with what you did to me. Make this promise and there won't be any consequences for my childhood. I'll just disappear – until the next magical child is born."

"Fine. I promise." Her tone was entirely unconvincing.

'_She doesn't believe that there could be a Dursley like me.'_

As his aunt turned to flounce away, Harry grabbed her arm.

"Uh uh. I need a promise that you can't break, Aunt Petunia." Harry swished his wand at his aunt. "I need a magical promise from both you and Dudley."

Her eyes narrowed. "And you swear we'll never see you again?"

"I'll magically promise that I will never seek shelter from any home you own nor will I name you or Dudley as guardians to any child I may produce."

Aunt Petunia hesitated a moment, then nodded.

"Dudley!" she raised her voice, "Come here, Dudley!"

Dudley hurried out of the car.

"Mum?"

She plastered a smile on her face as she turned to her son.

"Dudley, we need to exchange some promises with Harry."

He frowned.

"It isn't anything important. And if we do this, we'll never have to see him ever again."

Dudley shrugged. "Okay."

Harry held out his hand, palm up. "Put your hands over mine."

He tapped the back of the uppermost hand – Dudley's – and whispered the binding words. Magical cords that burned like blue fire shot out of Harry's holly wand and wound their way through their fingers, across their palms, over the backs of their hands, up their wrists, and over their forearms.

"State your names then repeat after me… I solemnly swear that guardianship and all legal rights regarding any magical child born to me, of me, or because of me – regardless of whether or not the child's existence is known to me – will pass to Harry James Potter at the time of the child's first magical act, regardless of whether the magical act is controlled or uncontrolled."

When they were finished, Harry made his own promise.

"I, Harry James Potter, solemnly swear that I will never seek shelter from any home you own ever again nor will I name you or Dudley as guardians to any child I may produce."

Harry whispered the last words of binding. The cords flared bright and turned red then sank into their flesh.

Harry took a step back, dropping his aunt and cousin's hands.

"There. Good bye Aunt Petunia. Bye Dudley."

Harry stayed where he was until long after his relatives' car had disappeared into traffic. He was not sorry to see his relatives go. But it _still_ hurt that Sirius and Remus were missing.

'_They didn't even owl!'_

Furious, Harry turned on his heel and stomped back into the train station.

'_I have more than enough pounds for a hotel room and a bus pass_' Harry fumed.

But the muggle world was quite a bit more conscientious about unaccompanied minors than the Wizarding World was. While he could afford a hotel room, there was no way that anyone would rent one to him.

Another plan, just as quickly formed as the first, burst into existence in Harry's mind. This time he had time to do a bit of exploring and polish it up.

'_I'll catch a bus to Grimmauld Place_' Harry decided. '_If Sirius is there, I'll find out what's going on. If not, I'll destroy the locket and get Kreacher to let me stay in one of the rooms._'

On a whim, Harry bought a year-round transportation pass from the ticket office. Then he snagged a bus map and studied the bus routes for a few minutes.

"Hedwig" he said after studying the bus routes for a bit. "I'm going to see if I can stay at number twelve Grimmauld Place. Wait a few days and see if I'm there. If I'm not, I'll probably be at one of the Potter properties for a bit. Do you understand?"

Hedwig bobbled her head and affectionately nipped at his fingers. Despite just how angry and hurt Harry was, he grinned. With a final stroke of her feathers, Harry let Hedwig out of her cage. When she had disappeared from sight, Harry went to catch the proper first bus.

Thirty minutes later, Harry squinted at the space between Number Twelve and Number Fourteen Grimmauld Place. A floating doorknob appeared from thin air. Mere moments after that Grimmauld Place twisted into existence between the two houses, shouldering Numbers Twelve and Fourteen to either side.

Grinning, Harry darted up the steps.

The door was locked. Harry eyed the coiled serpent that made up the door knocker.

"_**Open please.**_"

A moment later the battered door slowly creaked open. A putrid stench rolled out with the opening door. Inside the house was utter blackness.

For a moment, Harry was flummoxed. Sirius obviously was not home.

"I'm an idiot" Harry groaned from beneath his sense of crushing disappointment.

He pulled his phoenix feather wand from his pocket and wordlessly lit the tip of it. Harry slowly crept into the house, leaving the front door open behind himself. Just in case.

No one had been shy about trying to describe how badly into disrepair Grimmauld Place had fallen since Mrs. Black had died. But phrases like 'let it go a bit' or 'completely wrecked' or even 'utter disaster' failed to convey just how _bad_ it was. Trash and dirt and _animal carcasses_ obscured the floors. _Things_ skittered around in the darkness, just outside the circle of light that Harry's wand created. It smelled so bad that Harry found himself breathing through his mouth.

Harry tried to ignore the sound of something large dragging after him as he headed toward the library.

"Thinks he can steal from Mistress" muttered Kreacher from somewhere in the darkness. "Show him. Show the nasty little thief what happens when to those who steal from the House of Black."

As crazy and mean as Kreacher had been when Harry first met him, he sounded downright terrifying as a disembodied voice in the darkness.

"Hello? Kreacher? I'm here to destroy Regulus' locket."

Harry yelped and stumbled backwards.

In front of Harry, his eyes glowing balefully in the wand light, was the hunched form of Kreacher. The house elf was rocking back and forth, his knobby hands clutching elbows.

"The nasty thief wants Master Regulus' locket. What does the nasty thief want with Master Regulus' locket?"

"Regulus wanted you to destroy it, yeah?" Harry said, playing on Kreacher's biggest weakness and most terrible regret. "Well, I'm here to do that for him."

Kreacher stared at Harry for such a long time that Harry began to think about making a run for the door and just coming back later with Sirius.

Kreacher bobbled his head in a nod at Harry. He turned and shuffled into the darkness.

"Nasty thief will follow Kreacher. Kreacher will show the thief Master Regulus' locket. If thief is lying Kreacher will show the thief the basement. The thief will visit the special basement and see Mistress' toys. Oh yes. Oh yes. Oh yes. Oh yes, he will _scream_."

Harry shuddered. The basement had been cleared by the time that Harry had first come to Grimmauld Place. It was one of his dearest wishes to never see, much less experience, what was stored in the 'special basement.'

Kreacher led Harry into the library and to the glass case.

The locket, surrounded by the questionable achievements of the House of Black, glinted in Harry's wand light.

"Can you please turn on the lights, Kreacher?"

_Crack_!

The candelabra hanging from the ceiling lit up.

Everything looked so much _worse_ under direct light that Harry nearly asked Kreacher to turn it out again.

Harry took off his wristwatch and, with a glance at the ground, decided to levitate it. Once it was floating, Harry transfigured it back into a trunk then pressed his left thumb against the middle drawer's lock. The lock nipped him, tasting his blood and magic, and Harry whispered the password before the drawer slid outward.

Inside were Harry's most valuable possessions. Harry picked up the Sword of Gryffindor with his left hand then slid the drawer shut with his elbow before anything in the room took up residence in it.

A flick of his wand opened the doors of the glass case. A swish of his wand floated the hateful locket out. After a quick glance around, Harry settled it on a particularly hideous side table. In the original timeline Tonks had tripped over it nearly every time she had stepped into the library.

Harry pocketed his wand and hefted the Sword in a two-handed grip. Before he could think about it too much, or the locket could do something evil, Harry brought Gryffindor's Sword down on the locket.

_Crash_!

In a silent explosion of magic and screams, the locket flashed as green as the Killing Curse then flared white. It sizzled as it melted a bit around the edges.

Harry waited a moment then poked the locket with the tip of his left forefinger.

Nothing.

He waited a moment longer then carefully put the locket on.

Still nothing.

Harry took the locket off and held it out to the oddly silent Kreacher.

"I know that Regulus Black was very important to you. Would you like to wear his locket?"

The ancient house elf stared at Harry. This time Harry knew quite well what the answer was so, when Kreacher had been still and silent for an unusually long amount of time, Harry draped the locket around Kreacher's neck. He only used a bit of wandless, wordless magic to help him since he was still holding onto the sword with his left hand.

Kreacher burst into noisy tears. Harry awkwardly patted the house elf's back.

"The thief has done what loyal Kreacher could not!"

"It's all right Kreacher. Really."

"Kreacher tried and tried to fulfill Master Regulus' last order. But he failed. Then the thief –"

"You can call me Harry."

"Master Harry snuck into the House of Black. And he did not disturb anything. He only fulfilled Master Regulus' order for Kreacher."

"Er. You're making more out of this than I really deserve. I hate Voldemort."

"Master Regulus hated the Dark Lord! Kreacher hates the Dark Lord! Mistress hated him for what he did to sweet Master Regulus!"

Harry was pretty sure that Kreacher didn't know he was speaking out loud. But he still bore a disturbing similarity to Dobby. Perhaps Dobby was more cracked than Harry had realized.

"Erm… If there's a clean room, I'd be really grateful to stay in it. We'd be even really. More than even."

Although Harry was beginning to rethink that part of the plan in light of how just how nasty Grimmauld Place was at this point in the timeline. Did any of his properties look like this?

Kreacher paused, his bulbous eyes narrowing at Harry.

"Mistress won't like a half-blood dirtying the place up. But he destroyed the locket."

The bit about 'dirtying the place up' was a bit rich considering the rotting bodies cluttering up the floor space. But maybe it would be better not to point that out to Kreacher.

"I'm Slytherin's Heir. If that helps at all."

"Nasty, lying –"

"Hey! I can totally prove it!"

Under Kreacher's beady glared, Harry rifled around in the second drawer of his trunk, putting away the Sword of Gryffindor and pulling the Slytherin family tree from his sheaf of inheritance papers instead. He pointed to the place that marked both Tom Riddle and his mother as deceased descendants – at each other's hands – and listed himself as the only living, magical heir.

The ancient elf shifted from foot to foot for a bit as he peered at the family tree then bobbled his head in a quick nod.

"Master Potter will stay here. He will not touch anything. Kreacher will ask his Mistress."

Harry nodded. "Sure thing."

Kreacher, Harry's Slytherin line of inheritance in hand, disappeared with a _crack_ of house elf magic.

Harry used the time to re-transfigure his trunk into a wristwatch. With his wristwatch securely wrapped around one wrist, Harry wandered over to peer at the dusty spines of the questionable books in the Black library.

Harry was just wondering how often a Black might need '1001 Ways to Melt Your Enemies Past Recognition' when Kreacher returned.

The house elf straightened his spine as best he could then cast a rather terrifying glare at Harry.

"Follow Kreacher."

Harry did. He followed Kreacher up the stairs and past the room he was normally put in at Grimmauld Place. They went up and up and up the stairs. Harry carefully stepped over or around the piles of trash and rotting flesh that Kreacher simply tromped through. Eventually they stopped in front of a door that Harry had only opened once in all the times that he had visited Grimmauld Place.

Harry squared his shoulders and grimly prepared himself for maggots and some sort of magical infestation.

The door creaked ominously when Kreacher forced it open.

Harry's face broke into a grin. '_It's __**clean**__!_'

He stepped into the room, utterly shocked and awed. The floor was spotless and the rugs were clean. There was no infestation of any sort. The sheets and blankets and banners looked freshly laundered. There was even the scent of lemons.

"This is _brilliant_!"

Harry beamed at Kreacher. The house elf turned a darker shade of green. He straightened his shoulders.

"Mistress said that it would be best to place Slytherin's Heir in her Slytherin son's room. Kreacher will fetch Master Harry when dinner is ready."

The house elf disappeared with another _crack_.

Harry poked around Regulus' room for a bit. There was a picture of him with a group of young, laughing Slytherins on his desk. Harry only recognized two: Regulus who looked very much like Sirius had in Professor Snape's memory – all good looking arrogance and mischief, even if his features were softer and more average than Sirius' were – and Barty Crouch Jr. It was startling to see him looking sane and happy. He had that sort of nervous air which Neville had now but would hopefully lose again in fifth year. Barty, however, would never have the chance to learn how to be confident in himself.

'_Was that why he joined the Death Eaters?_' Harry wondered as he flipped the picture over to look for names. Regulus, however, had not bothered jotting the names down. '_Did they make him feel better about himself?_'

It was one of the reasons Neville had always been so loyal to Harry in the previous timeline. It was one of the reasons Neville was just as loyal in the current timeline.

Regulus' bookcase was filled with his school texts – most of them the exact same ones that Harry had used in the original timeline – as well as some scrolls on bloodlines, some Occlumency texts that Harry had not found but looked quite interesting, books on the Wizarding political system, quite a few texts on Ancient Runes and Arithmacy that were well past N.E.W.T.-level coursework, and a couple of journals.

Regulus had kept a journal!

Harry settled down with Regulus' last journal and one of Regulus' Occlumency texts. He had only meant to read a bit of the journal, just the last few entries really, but Regulus was sarcastic, perceptive, and hilarious. He was not the sort of person Harry would have made friends with the first time around – definitely not a hint of Gryffindor bravery – but he had his own sense of honor.

Harry found that, at eighteen, he really liked Regulus Black.

So he read the entire journal and never once cracked the Occlumency book. When Kreacher came to fetch him for dinner, Harry took Regulus' journal with him.

Dinner turned out to be carrot soup and a cheese and watercress sandwich. It was plainer than anything Mrs. Weasley had ever made him but it was delicious and filling and much better than anything the Dursleys had ever fed him at eleven.

"This is great!" Harry said enthusiastically as Kreacher put a second sandwich in front of him. "And I really like what you've done with the kitchen."

Kreacher had made time to really make the kitchen sparkle with cleanliness even if the rest of the house was still as horrific as ever.

"Master Regulus' journal!"

The house elf sounded appalled.

Harry blinked, suddenly aware that this could go very badly.

"I like him" Harry said as he gently touched the journal's cover with his fingertips. "It's too bad we never met."

The house elf shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

It was tempting to point out that Regulus was dead. Whatever he had written in the journals could no longer hurt him.

"Master Regulus did not like it when Master Sirius touched his journals" Kreacher said uneasily.

Harry winced. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin – both of them the epitome of their Houses, resentful of each other, and terribly arrogant – trapped in a house together.

Harry suddenly found that he pitied Regulus as much as he pitied Sirius. Growing up together, with all of their jarring differences and similarities and their parents egging them on, must have been hell on both of them.

"I'm not going to use them to hurt Regulus" Harry promised Kreacher. "I just… like him. Well, I like the way he writes, really. Did he ever plan to write a book?"

Kreacher shook his head. "Master Regulus was going to sit in the Blacks' seat in the Wizgamot. He was going to be Minister of Magic someday."

"Really? Tell me more stuff about him."

Kreacher, looking quite pleased, settled in to teach Harry about his favorite subject.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore, dressed in his best muggle suit, marched up the front steps of Number Four, Privet Drive. He rapped smartly at the door then took the opportunity to admire the way his purple velvet suit shimmered in the sunlight as the Dursleys' neighbors were surely doing.

'_It looks almost like there are tiny stars sewn into the fabric'_ he decided._ 'Maybe I could get a robe made out of this material with actual stars in it? Perhaps even shooting stars. Those are quite lovely, especially if they turn different colors.'_

The door swung open to reveal Mrs. Petunia Dursley. The corners of her mouth turned down.

"Go away. He isn't here."

As she moved to shut the door on him, Albus caught it with his gnarled hand.

"I am quite aware that Mr. Potter is not home as he should be," Albus said, remembering the silver instrument in his office that still had not indicated that Harry Potter was safe at home with his relatives. It had been whistling cheerfully for _hours_. "Is he expected home shortly?"

Mrs. Dursley rolled her eyes. "No."

Albus felt his eyebrows knit into a frown. "Perhaps you should invite me in?"

"No."

He looked about meaningfully. "I believe your neighbors are watching us even now."

Mrs. Dursley flinched as if struck. Her eyes darted about, unerringly picking out the faces peering at them over the hedge and from around the drawn curtains, then swept over him. She seemed less than impressed by his dragon hide boots or purple suit or even his extremely stylish orange shirt. It was very silky despite its lovely ruffles.

She hissed, "Come in."

Albus, fingering his wand, slipped passed her into the most boringly muggle building he had entered since he had gone to visit young Tom Riddle just before that boy had entered Hogwarts.

She slammed the door then whirled on him.

"You can't make us take him back! He swore a magical oath! Even I know what that means!"

Albus stilled, all thought of oblivating whatever rift lay between Harry and his guardians fleeing him.

"He did _what_?"

A flash of triumph flushed Mrs. Dursley a fetching shade of pink. Her eyes flashed brightly and her smile was… beautiful.

Albus, in the grips of a terrible suspicion, felt an icy chill skim down his back.

"The boy indentured himself to one of your kind – a lawyer – to get the proper legal paperwork pushed through. And when that wasn't enough – you still sent us another of those wretched owls! – We exchanged promises. He can't ever seek shelter in a house owned by either Dudley or I."

"No."

"Yes!" She cried triumphantly. "There were even blue flames and everything! Our dealings with your kind are over. Forever."

When he continued to stare at her in absolute horror – how could Harry be so reckless as to swear a Wizarding Oath with muggles? – She opened the front door again.

"Good day, Headmaster."

Albus flicked his wrist, closing the front door again. The muggle in front of him jumped and yelped. Her eyes were wide and alarmed.

"Where is your family, Mrs. Dursley?" he asked softly.

The colored drained from her face even as her lips pursed into a straight, obstinate line.

"Out."

"How fortunate for me" he murmured as he wandered into the next room. It was a rather boring living room. Even the flowered pattern was boring and still. Mrs. Dursley trailed after him, sputtering protests. "If you cooperate and answer my questions, I shall hopefully be gone before your family returns. It will be like I was never here."

He settled into one of the disappointingly firm chairs.

Her eyes narrowed as she settled on the couch across from him. Best of all, she met his eyes with her own as she snarled, "What do you want to know?"

"Tell me _exactly_ what happened at the train station," Albus commanded, taking advantage of her eye contact.

Two hours later Albus had a quiet word with his old friend, Mad-Eye Moody.

"Don't worry, Albus. No Death Eater ever escaped me. I'll find the Boy Who Lived before sundown tomorrow."

"I'm counting on it, Alastor."

* * *

That night, his stomach full and his door firmly locked against anything that prowled the House of Black, Harry fully relaxed for the first time since he had come back. There were no relatives or friends or teachers to appear "normal" in front of and no enemies lurking in the shadows. He was in one of the few places that nothing bad had ever happened to him in. Some of his best memories were at Grimmauld Place.

"Harry?" shouted Sirius' voice from Harry's trunk. "Harry? Are you there?"

Angry, Harry slashed his wand at the trunk, wrapping the whole thing in a silencing charm.

'_He can just wonder about me for awhile'_ Harry thought angry as he replaced Regulus' journal on the shelf and snatched up his previously abandoned Occlumency book. _'Because right now, I have nothing to say to him or Remus!'_


	25. Chapter 25

I don't own or have any rights to the Harry Potter copyright, characters, trademark, or franchise. This is for fun, not profit. That said, I'm pretty sure this is a fair use.

There may have been exams... That said, it's the highest praise when someone says they stayed up terribly late or gave up sleeping time to read this. Thanks!

* * *

Father and Mother got along well enough at the train station. But when Father tried to help Mother out of the fireplace, Mother moved past his hand as if it was invisible to her. Father's expression faltered into one that Draco had never seen before.

"Would you like a snack, dear?" asked Mother, dropping a kiss on Draco's forehead and dragging his attention away from Father.

Uncertain, Draco nodded.

Mother took his hand as she led him to the dining room. Father's arm came to rest across Draco's shoulders.

It felt warm and safe.

'_Something's wrong.'_

As they walked, Draco's attention was caught by unexpected empty spots. The wall was a darker shade of cream where a portrait had been taken down and Uncle Pol's music box was missing from the side table. The bottle of red liquor that was always on the sideboard in the family room was gone. In fact, the entire side board was gone.

Several of the portraits were glaring at Mother and Father. Great aunt Cassandra Malfoy's portrait muttered something about father being weak. Grandfather Malfoy's portrait hissed "Blood Traitor!" at Mother as she passed. Great aunt Elladora Potter's portrait marched through two frames to hex Grandfather Malfoy into unconsciousness. When they passed her, she smiled brightly at Mother. Draco shuddered.

Over his snack, Mother and Father talked to Draco about his school year. They were attentive and asked him questions but they never sent each other those speaking looks or even spoke directly to each other. Father snuck glances at Mother when he thought no one would notice. Mother never even glanced at Father.

After Draco's snack, they all retired to the library. Draco selected one of the easiest Occlumency books from the libraries' shelves then wandered through the library until he found his parents. They were sitting across from each other at one of the larger cherry wood tables. Both of them were reading giant tomes – the sort of thing that mudblood Granger would tote around – and there was a scroll, a quill, and a bottle of ink between them.

Mother seemed completely focused on her text. Father kept sneaking glances at Mother over the top of his book.

'_It's like watching a couple of fifth years in the library,'_ Draco decided, as he settled at the head of the table.

It would have been funny if Draco was not so worried about them.

He flipped the book open to the first page.

"You're starting your studies early," Father noted.

Draco nodded. "What are you reading?"

Father tilted the book so that Draco could see its title.

"The Rise and Fall of the Twentieth Century's Dark Lords?" Draco read aloud. His eyes darted to the other books stacked around Father. "Those Who Slay Darkness? A Family Named Potter? The Boy Who Lived to Slay the Dark Lord? Nature's Nobility? Are you researching Harry?"

"I'm reading about soul magics," Mother murmured as she flipped a page in her book.

"You are!"

Draco's hand darted out to grab the scroll between his parents. Neither of them tried to stop him from reading it. They had taken turns adding to the list. The ones that referred to Harry as 'Harry' were in Mother's handwriting. The ones that referred to 'Potter' were in Father's script.

Harry found Diagon Alley without a guide; visited several times without his guardians.

Potter mastered soul magics at eleven.

Harry knew about his vault; knew that Dumbledore had the key. (Muggle relatives?)

Potter planned to buy his wand, school supplies, and books before he got his acceptance owl.

Harry gets along poorly with his muggle relatives; believes that they would steal his gold.

'He' told Harry that his only living relatives were muggles. (To keep Harry with the muggles?)

Harry understands the value of good table manners.

Potter attends deportment lessons with Draco.

Harry will listen to wiser, more tasteful, persons about the value of dress robes.

Potter has appalling taste in friends. (Mudbloods! Weasleys!)

Harry is interested in Draco – not Lucius.

Dumbledore stole – and returned? – Harry's invisibility cloak, a box of personal letters, and gold.

Harry knew that Sirius Black was his godfather and guardian – How? (No documentation!)

Where is the Potter's will?

Heir to Gryffindor = Potter

Heir to Slytherin = Potter

Found Peter Pettigrew in his Animagus form – How did Potter know about the rat? Or find him?

Potter makes liberal use of his solicitor.

Harry knows an unknown amount of Occlumency

Harry knows an unknown amount of Legimency

Harry likes Hagrid

Quidditch – While with muggles Potter knew Cannon, Dragons & recommended chaser to Draco

Potter is un-Sorted

Potter manipulated the Hat into putting him into Gryffindor. (Belongs in Slytherin?)

Harry seduced Dumbledore's wand

Family is important to Harry

Potter passed his O.W.L.s his first year

Potter taught DADA

Gryffindor Seeker his first year

Defeated a troll (protected Slytherin?)

Protected Draco in the Forbidden Forest

Saved Draco from the Diary

Stole Dobby

Killed Draco

Brought Draco back

Draco dropped the scroll, unwilling to read any more.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because Chastity MacDougal hasn't flooed me back yet," said Mother without looking up.

"Mrs. MacDougal?"

"Mmmm. I flooed her while you were getting your book. She's supposed to be going down to the Records Department to figure out where my idiot cousin Sirius is staying. You remember Sirius from the hospital ward, don't you?"

"Yes, but not _this_-this. I meant, why are you bothering with lists and research at all?"

"Knowledge is power."

"Because there's something odd about Harry Potter," corrected Mother with a quick, reproving look for Father. "And while I am quite attached to Harry, I think it would be better for you if we knew everything there is to know about him."

"_Me?_"

"I didn't particularly mind his oddness before. After all, everyone has secrets. But circumstances have changed and now you owe him a Life Debt, Darling. It's going to take some effort to get you out from under that."

Feeling sick and uneasy, Draco edged back in his seat and flipped his own book open.

An hour later Draco was slouching over his opened book. His head pounded and his eyes were so tired that the words and images on the page in front of him were a blur of whirling blacks and reds.

When he realized that his head was nodding, that he was almost _asleep_, Draco hastily stood up.

"It's okay to take a nap, Draco," his mother said, looking up from the book on soul magics that she was studying with an unsettling intensity.

Draco shook his head. "No thank you."

Nearby Father, who was surrounded by books, papers, and scrolls stilled. His gray eyes flicked up from the text in front of him and over Mother.

Mother met Father's look with one of her own. A heartbeat later, they were on their feet with their wands drawn.

"Draco –"

_Bang!_

The library doors slammed open, bounced off of the walls, and slapped the palms of a man with hair like a lion's mane and a balding redheaded man. Both men had their wands drawn.

A slim, soft hand grabbed Draco by the collar, yanked him down, and shoved him under the table.

Draco peered out from under the table's edge.

Father and Mother were both on their feet, standing over him, looking tall and fierce with their wands pointed at the invaders. Behind the first two intruders, stretched into the darkness of the hallway, was a crowd of men in gray robes. They had grim expressions, drawn wands, and shiny badges pinned to the front right shoulders of their robes.

Draco fished his wand out of his robes, aiming it at the strangers. His hand trembled. Mother and Father stepped more fully in front of him so that they stood shoulder to shoulder in front of him. Their robes hid the strangers from his view entirely.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Draco flinched at the sharpness of Father's tone.

"This is a raid, Malfoy."

Draco narrowed his eyes, instantly disliking the way that voice spoke to his father. It was cold, contemptuous, and hateful.

'_Which one is it?'_

"Where is your writ?" demanded Mother coldly. Someone floated a scroll toward his parents. Mother plucked the scroll out of the air with her right hand without ever lowering her wand hand. After studying it for several moments she snapped, "Come along Draco. We must floo call our solicitor."

Draco scrambled out from under the table then to his feet. He tried to ignore the way that the strangers' eyes followed him as he hurried to keep up with Mother's long, gliding steps.

'_I was possessed by my journal in January and possessed by the Dark Lord in May. Mother and Father stopped talking. Strangers are invading our home in June. This is the worst year ever.'_

* * *

"Harry. Harry. Harry, please answer me. Harry. Harry. Har –"

"If you say his name one more time, I'm going to strangle you!"

Sirius shot Remus a look that was equal parts anger and betrayal.

"Harry's ignoring me!"

"He isn't."

"And it's your fault!"

"What? It is not!"

"You talked me into letting his muggle relatives meet him at the train." Sirius clutched at his hair with the hand that was not clutching his mirror. "I let you talk me into going along with Dumbledore's stupid plan. It's my fault. My fault. Again. I'm an idiot."

"It's what's best for Harry," Remus hurried to interrupt before Sirius' thoughts could go down that path again. He was getting better but certain thought processes, once triggered, still tended to loop around themselves.

'_At least Sirius isn't hiding in Padfoot anymore.'_

Sirius snorted. "If he's so happy, why won't he answer me?"

"He probably left his mirror out of reach. I'm sure he'll be crushed that he missed all of your shouting."

"We always talk on Fridays!"

"He's eleven. Harry's probably so busy catching up with his muggle relatives that he's forgotten what day it is."

Sirius' mouth set stubbornly. "Harry never forgets. Anyway, he hates them."

"Sirius! He does not!"

"How would you know? You never talk to Harry." Sirius' gaze turned speculative. "Do you write to him?"

"I don't even own an owl!"

"Harry does. Her name's Hedwig."

Scowling, Remus eyed the small rectangular mirror that Sirius was clutching.

"If I'd known that you still had those, you wouldn't be talking to Harry so regularly either."

"Remus!" Sirius jerked the mirror up to his chest protectively. His other hand was wrapped around the base of his wand.

Remus sighed tiredly. "I'm not going to take it away Sirius."

Sirius eyed Remus warily for a few more moments before seemingly deciding that Remus meant it. Slowly he relaxed into the shabby olive green armchair. The hand holding that damned mirror came to rest on the frayed armrest while the fingers of Sirius' other hand released his wand to instead pick at stuffing poking out of a seam.

Remus narrowed his eyes. He leaned forward in his equally shabby maroon armchair.

"He isn't James, Sirius."

"Why do you keep saying that?" Sirius was tense again. "I already know that!"

Remus was opening his mouth to start into their old argument when the fire in the grate flared green. A moment later, Professor Dumbledore's head was resting in the grate. His eyes lacked their usual twinkle and the corners of his mouth were tight.

"Sirius, please fetch Harry."

Sirius jerked as if Professor Dumbledore had hit him with a lightning bolt.

"Harry?" Sirius barked.

Remus had a horrible, sinking feeling. Sirius was as still and pale as if the professor had hit him with a _petrificus totalis_. His eyes were feverishly bright.

Remus, who still knew Sirius better than he knew himself, shivered.

"Yes." Professor Dumbledore said as he pinned Sirius with that particularly sharp, unamused look that he had favored Sirius with after that awful prank. For once, Remus was almost positive that Sirius did not deserve it. "_Now_, Mr. Black."

"He's not here, Professor," Remus said quickly, catching Professor Dumbledore's eyes with his own. "Why would he be? We agreed that he was supposed to go home with his muggle relatives."

Professor Dumbledore frowned.

"Alas, he did not. They met him at Platform 9¾ but he did not go home with them. They seemed quite certain that he was going to stay with his godfather."

Sirius exploded into motion, leaping to his feet in a single fluid movement. He stormed the length of the room then back again as he ranted.

"How could you _lose_ him? How could you lose _Harry_?" He glared. "You said that Harry would be safest with his relatives! They couldn't even get him home!"

"Sirius there was no way that Professor Dumbledore could've known that Harry –"

"Of course he knew! Even I knew! For as long as I've known him, Harry's been absolutely determined not to go back to his muggles." Sirius stabbed an accusing finger at Remus. "I told you this was a bad idea! And now we've lost Harry! I've lost Harry! Again!"

"Sirius, settle down. Professor Dumbledore –"

"Settle down? How can I settle down? Harry's lost and it's my fault! I've lost Harry!"

As Sirius stormed back toward Remus again, this time heading for the door, Remus reached out to snag Sirius' wrist as he asked, "What did Harry say to the muggles?"

"_Exactly,_" Sirius ground out.

"That his father's best friend, who was supposed to have been his guardian, had promised to finish raising him."

Sirius nodded. "That's true. I expected to have Harry during the summers and holidays. I never expected to be deemed an unfit guardian by the meddling old men who then lost my godson."

Remus sighed, resigning himself to hearing some variation of that remark on a regular basis until they succeeded in finding Harry.

"He also said that the unnamed wizard had a house in London. Harry seemed to think that he was supposed to take the Knight Bus there. Alas, Harry never caught the Knight Bus."

Under his fingertips, Sirius' pulse leapt. Remus turned expectant eyes on Sirius' too pale and too blank face.

"Sirius?" Remus asked. "Do you know where Harry went?"

"No." Sirius said in that perfectly innocent, perfectly cultured tone that he only used when he was lying through his teeth or keeping giant, potentially lethal, secrets. "No idea."

"Sirius."

Sirius met Professor Dumbledore's eyes. "I don't know where Harry is."

"But you have an idea," Remus guessed.

"No, I don't." Sirius shot a furious glare at Remus. "Harry isn't talking to me."

Professor Dumbledore sighed. "Didn't your parents have a home in London?"

"I never told Harry about that place," Sirius snarled, only telling the absolute truth this time.

Remus frowned. "James' family had a London townhouse. Perhaps Harry went there."

Sirius shot Remus a furious, betrayed look that Remus properly ignored. Professor Dumbledore nodded.

"Excellent thinking, Remus. Why don't you go and look for Harry there? Go by yourself so as not to alarm him." Sirius scowled. "If he is not there, if Harry has perhaps gone to someone else in London, then it will be necessary to reconvene the Order of the Phoenix."

Remus startled. "Is that really necessary Professor?"

"I'm afraid so," Professor Dumbledore said somberly. "It is extremely important that we find Harry before darker elements do. I've already asked Alastor track Harry down."

Remus shivered. "The aurors –"

"Won't officially look for him. Technically, Harry Potter is an adult and may spend his summers where he wishes. Alastor is looking for Harry as a favor to me."

"He's just a boy!" cried Remus.

"And that's exactly why we must find Harry first," Professor Dumbledore said gravely.

As soon as Professor Dumbledore's head disappeared from the fire, Remus sprang to his feet.

"Let's go Sirius!"

But Sirius shook his head.

"Sirius –"

"No, Remus."

His face was set and his eyes burned with a maniac, stubborn light that Remus knew and feared. Sirius always looked that way before his worst excesses. Remus imagined that Sirius looked that way when he found James and Lily and when he confronted Peter. He knew Sirius looked that way when the aurors captured him and dragged him off to Azkaban.

'_The sooner I leave, the sooner I'll find Harry. The sooner I find Harry, the sooner he'll be out of danger. The sooner Harry is out of danger, the sooner Sirius will calm down. So my first priority must be finding Harry.'_

Remus sighed.

"Fine. Stay here. I'll be right back. Hopefully with Harry."

Ten minutes later, Remus was standing on the concealed front doorstep to the Potter family's London home, arguing with a house elf in the dead of night.

"But I'm an old friend of James Potter's! How else would I even know this place existed?"

"We cannot let you in the house," said the house elf firmly. "You aren't a Potter!"

"Is Harry Potter in? He could vouch for –"

"Master Harry Potter is away. Perhaps you should write him an owl instead of trying to sneak into his house!"

And with that the little creature slammed the door on him.

Remus, standing on the doorstep, blinked at the outside of a wooden door that was worryingly close to the tip of his nose. He sighed, his shoulder slumping, then he apparated home.

His empty home. Sirius was nowhere to be found.

Remus sighed again, too tired to panic. _'Of course Sirius went off on his own. I really __**should**__ have seen this coming.'_

He flooed the Headmaster.

"He wasn't there," Remus reported. "Although the elf suggested sending Harry an owl rather than trying to break into his homes."

"What an excellent idea!" Albus beamed. "You or Sirius can write Harry a letter and we'll follow it to Harry's location! Marvelous creatures, house elves!"

'_And if I find Harry, I'll find Sirius. No one will have to know that I… misplaced Sirius.'_ Remus nodded, despite the sinking feeling in his stomach. _'It can't be that easy… can it?'_

It was not that easy.

That night Remus, disillusioned and riding a disillusioned broom, tried to follow the post owl carrying his message to Harry. He lost it over a seedier part of London. He flew up and down the streets, looking for an open window or a likely home. But try as he might, Remus could not find where the post owl had gone. Every _find me_ spell he performed on the bird's location went wild.

'_A fidelius charm?'_

In a sudden fit of inspiration, Remus performed the _find me _spell on a nearby rubbish bin.

The spell went wild. Remus' wand, Remus' very magic, had no idea where the bin was.

Remus frowned.

'_Not a fidelius charm then. But there are some very strong protections around here. I've got to be on top of a wizard's home. Who is Harry staying with?'_


	26. Chapter 26

I have no rights to or within the Harry Potter franchise, copyright, characters, or trademark. This is for fun, not profit.

* * *

Harry woke up to beautiful, blessed silence.

No snores from Seamus' bed or mumbling from Ron's. No one else was breathing in the room much less trying to sneak in or out of it. There were no feet pounding up or down the stairs outside of his bedroom door. Nothing exploded in any of the rooms underneath his.

It was glorious.

Smiling, Harry snuggled into his green duvet and went back to sleep.

A few hours later, he woke up again. Harry wedged his glasses onto his face then swished his wand at his trunk.

Silence.

Harry swished his wand again.

His trunk was still silent.

'_How could they just give up like that?'_

Furious, Harry slid out of bed and stormed around, picking out clothes and heading for the bathroom.

A long, hot shower helped soothe Harry's temper. When he exited the bathroom, Kreacher was waiting for him.

Kreacher led Harry down to the kitchen where a breakfast of scrambled eggs, yogurt, steak, croissants, and jam waited for him. Harry had barely sat down when the first owl tapped on one of the small, rectangular windows near the room's ceiling.

Kreacher snapped his fingers. The window snapped open.

Two other owls fluttered into the room in the wake of the first owl. By the time Harry had finished breakfast, he had three letters from his friends, five invitations from people that he knew, and seventeen from people that he had never met. Harry read the letters while nursing a glass of orange juice, rejected the seventeen invitations using Justin Finch-Fletchley's suggested standard response on the high quality paper that Justin had recommended, and accepted three of the invitations from the people he knew. The last two, an invitation to stay with the Larkins for a few days and a party at the Timmonsons', conflicted.

'_Is there a nice way to find out if the Larkins are also invited to the Timmonsons' party before I respond to either invitation?'_ Harry wondered.

Ultimately, he decided to just ask the Timmonsons then answer those two invitations.

'_But I'll have to use a public floo,'_ Harry thought, remembering Sirius – _his_ Sirius, the original Sirius who would never, ever give up on anything – once said that his father had been so paranoid that he had disconnected Grimmauld Place from the floo network.

After Harry's first breakfast of the summer, Kreacher insisted on introducing him to Mrs. Black's portrait. She looked no more pleasant than she had the last time around – her skin was still yellow and her eyes still glittered madly – but she no longer looked tortured. Instead her expression was vaguely pinched as she studied him openly.

'_Not being ignored and not hating her house guest has had a very good effect on her,'_ Harry decided.

"I thought you'd be taller," she said at last. "Your father was much taller at this age."

Harry winced. "Maybe I'll hit a growth spurt."

Mrs. Black snorted. She focused her scary pale blue eyes on Harry again. They bore an unsettling resemblance to Sirius' eyes.

"Why are you hiding in the House of Black, Harry Potter? I should think that you would be much more comfortable hiding in one of the Potter estates."

Harry winced. "I'm – er – hiding from Albus Dumbledore. I figured he'd look for me in my family's places first."

Her gaze became speculative. "The Heir of Slytherin is hiding from Albus Dumbledore? And what makes you think that the Blacks – who are _always pure_ when you are _not _– will help you?"

Harry squared his shoulders.

"Narcissa Malfoy said that my dad's mum was a Black and that Blacks always help each other. And anyway, my mum may have been a muggleborn but she was witchy enough to show up on Slytherin's own family tree!"

Mrs. Black sniffed, clearly unimpressed with Harry's logic.

"Sirius is my godfather."

"He always had appallingly bad taste. Worse even than your father's."

Harry bristled but said, "It would really upset Albus Dumbledore."

Mrs. Black's portrait brightened. "Really?"

Harry nodded. "And Voldemort would get nervous since he wouldn't know where I am."

Grief, rage, and then thoughtfulness crossed the portrait's face. In the end, Mrs. Black nodded.

"You may stay in the house of my forefathers," she decreed at last. Her look traveled over him from the tips of his scruffy hair to the toes of his scuffed sneakers. "You will take advantage of my generosity and seek to improve yourself, however. We shall start with your unbecoming presentation. Kreacher, this boy is to have proper robes, proper boots, and milk at dinner every night!"

"Yes Mistress."

"Yes ma'am."

"And you will _wear_ your new _robes_ in this house!"

"Yes ma'am."

"And you shall further your magical education every morning from after breakfast until lunch."

"Yes ma'am."

Mrs. Black scowled. She raised her voice calling, "Aunt Elladora Black! Aunt Elladora Potter! Aunt Isla Black! Uncle Arcturus Black!"

Harry startled, straining his eyes to peer at the portraits through the gloom.

'_Elladora Potter?'_

It had never occurred to him that there might be _Potter_ portraits in the House of Black. It had never occurred to him that Potter portraits even _existed_.

Harry's heart twisted in his chest.

'_I wonder if there's one for my mum and dad.'_

Elladora Black was quite old and grumpy looking. She sucked her teeth as she studied Harry with narrow, disapproving eyes.

Elladora Potter was a very young woman with a heart-shaped face, hair so pale that it was only a few shades away from being white and large eyes. Elladora Potter nee Black, who bore a startling resemblance to Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, looked like a delicate porcelain doll. When she spotted Harry, her lips parted on a delighted gasp. She leaned forward eagerly.

Isla Black was middle aged and even more beautiful than Bellatrix Black. Her face was less sharp and far friendlier. Her eyes sparkled with good humor instead of madness but her mouth was a thin line of disapproval.

The older Arcturus Black was an old man with wild gray hair, intelligent eyes, and a crooked grin. Oddly, he looked every bit as disapproving of Harry as Isla and Elladora Black.

They all had the pale blue eyes that Harry knew Sirius, Narcissa, Andromeda, and Bellatrix possessed.

"Harry Potter is a Black by way of Elladora Potter." Sirius' mum said formally. "He's also a Founder's Heir. Harry Potter has come seeking sanctuary from the House of Black."

Harry's head spun. He swayed on his feet.

'…_by way of Elladora Potter… She's my dad's mum! My grand mum!'_

"What's left of it," muttered Arcturus Black.

Elladora Potter beamed. "You look an awful lot like my Jamie. Are you related to James Potter?"

Harry nodded, his head moving like a bobble-headed doll.

"He – He's my dad." Harry cleared his throat. "He _was_ my dad."

Elladora Potter clapped her hands. "James is my son!"

"Didn't James marry a mudblood?" asked Elladora Black suspiciously.

"Her blood was more magical than yours," Harry snapped, his temper flaring.

It was easier to be patient with crazy old Kreacher than some bigoted, old crone's portrait. Kreacher, at least, was decent enough to personalize his insults. And his mother and father's good names had always been sensitive subjects for Harry.

Arcturus and Isla laughed, their amusement booming out of the portrait frame. Elladora giggled, her hands pressed over her mouth girlishly.

"Harry!" snapped Mrs. Black while Elladora Black's eyes flared with her anger.

Harry subsided, still glaring at Elladora Black.

"I like him!" said Arcturus.

"He inherited my temper!" gloated Elladora Potter.

"Phineas Nigellus must be… distracted from entering the house," interrupted Mrs. Black. "He cannot be allowed to tell Albus Dumbledore where Harry Potter is."

While the other three swapped telling looks, Elladora Black sniffed. "What's in it for us?"

"Elladora!" scolded Harry's grand mum. "He's a _Black_! Blood looks after its own!"

"_He_ isn't a Black! He's little better than an animal!" She flashed Isla Black a snide look. "That puts him right up your alley."

_Crack!_

Elladora Potter, her hand outstretched, stood heaving and panting. Her eyes flashed with blue fire and her nostrils flared.

A small, perfect handprint was outlined on old Elladora Black's cheek.

"_Never _say such things about _my _grandson again," Elladora Potter said lowly. "Or a slap won't be all you get, little Dora."

Elladora Black nodded, subsiding into a sulky silence.

Harry blinked. _'She wasn't kidding. She really __**does**__ have a terrible temper!' _A sudden, unsettling thought occurred to Harry. _'She said that I have __**her**__ temper. Do __**I **__have a terrible temper?'_

"If Harry needs to hide, we'll make sure that no one finds him here, Aunt Dora," Isla promised Harry's grandmother as she and Arcturus subtly leaned away from Elladora Potter.

Elladora Potter nodded, her shoulders still tight and her eyes still hot, as she lowered her hand with an ominous sort of restraint.

"And if Phineas makes a nuisance of himself," Arcturus said happily "he still isn't so big that you can't turn him over your knee, Aunt Dora."

His grand mum's smile was a bit frightening.

'_She'd definitely do it,'_ Harry realized. He shuddered and blurted, "Right. I'm glad that's all settled. If you don't mind, I need to visit the library."

Mrs. Black's expression was thoroughly approving.

'_I wonder if she ever looked at Sirius that way.'_

Harry's grand mum flittered from frame to frame, following Harry to the library, as she asked probing questions about his school year. Elladora Potter smiled brightly at him, laughed in all of the right places, and looked thoughtful when Harry skimmed over the more incriminating details.

For his part, Harry tried to keep track of which Black relatives scurried out of Elladora Potter way and which held their ground while trying to avoid stepping in the trash and carcasses in the hallways. Apparently, Isla and Arcturus were not alone in fearing his grand mum.

'_Where was she the first time I stayed here?'_ Harry wondered. _'Did she know I was here? Did they somehow keep her away like the portraits are keeping Phineas away? Did someone trap her in her portrait frame?'_

"Harry?" asked his grand mum, her eyebrows arched inquisitively.

Harry shook his head. "I never imagined there would be any Potters here."

Elladora Potter laughed. "Every member of the House of Black sits for a portrait at some point before they graduate Hogwarts. If we marry, we'll have other frames and other portraits but there will always be a frame in this house for us. Dorea married a Potter too. She can tell your parents' portraits that you're here."

Harry stopped dead. He flashed hot, his heart pounding alarmingly.

"My parents?" Harry said, his voice squeaking embarrassingly. Harry cleared his throat. "They have portraits?"

She beamed. "Of course!" Her face fell. "But they don't have frames here."

Harry wilted.

"Oh." He forced himself to straighten up. "I'll just have to sneak into one of the Potter estates."

Elladora Potter scowled.

"No boy should have to _sneak_ home. You just wait. Albus Dumbledore is going to regret this – even if I have to lay in wait for his portrait."

Harry grinned.

In the library Harry rescued the Black Family Tree from the doxies, nearly getting bitten for his efforts, then lugged it upstairs to Regulus' room.

"Harry!" called his grand mum from the portrait frame in the hallway as he stuck the tapestry to a wall of Regulus' bedroom. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to work out my relation to Sirius," Harry called back. "And Draco and Mrs. Malfoy."

"Pffft!" Elladora snorted derisively. "Cissy's just a baby. If you _must_ be respectful, call her Narcissa."

Harry giggled. Giggled!

Mortified, Harry swallowed the rest of the sound.

'_I do not giggle!'_ He slanted a look in his grandmother's general direction. _'She's a terrible influence.'_

Harry went back out to the hallway where he used magic to peel the nearest portrait frame from the wall. He lugged it into his room and propped it up against the bed.

"So where are you?"

"Trace from your godfather back to Phineas Nigellus. Do you see his father, Sol? Sol was my eldest brother."

Harry blinked, his finger hovering over the golden thread that connected Sol Black and Elladora Potter nee Black.

"It says that you were born in 1825!"

Elladora nodded.

"I was quite old when I finally died. I outlived nearly everyone." She said proudly. She leaned forward, her tones fond and her manner conspiratorial, "It's because I married Harold Potter. We loved each other, of course, but we were kind to each other as well. It's important to marry someone who will care for you, young Harry."

Harry, his face hot, veered between remembering flashing eyes, long, flaming red hair, and ferocious kisses in the common room and stringy pale hair, too wide blue eyes, and a gentle heart that knew exactly what to say when he needed comforting.

'_Would Ginny and I really have been happy together?' _he wondered. _'Ginny and I were hot together but Luna and I were kinder to each other. And we had more fun.'_

"Um, er, right." Harry cleared his throat. "So, um, uh –"

Elladora Potter giggled.

"You're so cute! Just like my Harold." She waved a hand at Harry. "Tell me what you know about the Blacks!"

Grateful for the change in topic, Harry pressed his finger against Phineas Nigellus' name.

"Phineas Nigellus was the most hated Headmaster that Hogwarts ever had." Harry, his mind slowly floating back to those hazy summer weeks spent with _his_ Sirius, traced his finger to a second name. "Sirius said that Araminta Meliflua tried to make muggle-hunting legal." His only summer with Sirius was hazy from the strength of his emotions that summer. He had been so nervous and angry and excited. If he had only known what he knew now, he would have paid more attention, cherished it more, and used that damn mirror… "Sirius' Aunt Elladora. He said that she started the family tradition of beheading house-elves when they got too old to carry tea trays." Harry's finger slid over the soft, worn threads of the tapestry to trace the brittle, burned edges of the blast marks – first Sirius' then Andromeda's blast marks. "He says that everyone good was disowned and blasted off of the tree."

Elladora Potter laughed, loudly and heartily.

"Oh Sirius! As dramatic as ever!" Her arms wrapped around her middle, his grand mum laughed so hard that she cried. "If everyone who ran away from home or got blasted off of the tree or dishonored the Black name was formally disowned, there wouldn't be any Blacks left!"

Harry startled, his eyes widening. "But – But Sirius said –"

"This is Sirius' house. Did you know that?"

Harry nodded.

"If being blasted off of the family tree actually meant that you were disowned, Sirius never would have inherited the Black properties or fortune. And anyway, I heard that you quite like Regulus."

Harry blinked. "Well, yes but his mum probably didn't mind that he was a Death Eater."

"Walburga hated it with the power of a thousand suns. To her thinking, at least Sirius was no one's servant. Regulus was the branded servant of a boy that she had treated quite poorly in school."

"She knew Tom Riddle in school?"

"Mmm… Most of that generation went to school with him." Elladora's eyes glinted slyly. "Look at their ages."

"For wizards and witches, they died quite young."

"And they died quite violently."

"You don't mean –"

"I died of old age. But I found it quite interesting that so many of young Tom Riddle's schoolmates, even those uninterested in his difference of opinion with Albus Dumbledore, died so abruptly. And quite young. If you'll notice, a great many branches ended during the last war. In this family, only Callidora Longbottom nee Black and Walburga survived his first rise and they both lost their children to his war."

'_He was running away from being Tom. Did he think that the only way to really become Voldemort was to kill everyone who remembered him as Tom Riddle? Did he hate being Tom Marvolo Riddle that much?'_

Harry sat down. "Didn't anyone notice?"

"Of course. That's why Orion poured so much of the family fortune into fortifying this place. The ancestral Longbottom house is probably as well fortified as this place or the main Potter properties."

Harry glanced at her sharply.

'_**She **__never went to school with Tom Riddle. And my parents went to ground at Godric's Hollow under the fidelius so there was no point in my parents fortifying all of those other properties. Who were the Potters hiding from?'_

Elladora smiled brightly. The look in her eyes was unpleasant. "Riddle must've laughed himself sick."

"Why?" Harry asked unwillingly, far more interested in the hints about the Potter properties than Voldemort. He already knew Tom better than anyone in the world, after all.

"A muggleborn, or even a halfblood, in Slytherin House has a hard life, Harry. Very, very hard. He was probably never truly in danger of dying but…"

She shivered. Her eyes were distant as she recalled something that the real Elladora Potter had experienced.

"When he came back, he tortured and murdered his tormentors and enslaved their children. I imagine the sight of their proud children kneeling at his feet was far worse for Tom's old tormentors than any physical torture ever devised." Her smile was brittle. "Oh, how he must have laughed."

Harry shuddered, feeling ill. _'She's right. Tom probably laughed himself sick.'_

"If Andromeda wasn't disinherited when she got blasted off the family tapestry, why isn't her family on the tapestry?" Harry asked loudly, desperate to change the subject.

Elladora startled. "Oh, she was disinherited but not by Walburga. She wasn't Walburga's daughter, was she? Cygnus, her father, formally disinherited her. He was quite put out when Orion refused to disinherit Sirius."

"Oh."

Harry's eyes were caught by the familiar names on the tapestry. He had seen the tapestry before but he had never truly _seen_ it. The Blacks had married into nearly every pureblood family including the Crouches, the Longbottoms, the McKinnons, the Lestranges, the Malfoys, the Weasleys, the Prewetts, the MacMillans and the Potters.

'_They destroyed themselves,'_ Harry thought dizzily. _'Bellatrix and the Lestrange brothers and Barty Crouch Jr. were cousins with both Neville's mum and dad. And they and Narcissa helped to wipe out the McKinnons and the Prewetts and probably killed my Potter cousin.'_

Suddenly painfully aware of the pressing shadows in the corners of the room and the ominous quiet in the house, Harry _needed_ to escape the house.

"I… I need to go. Out. Excuse me."

Harry grabbed his wallet and the Philosopher's Stone then fled the House of Black.

He used muggle transport to get to Kent where, when confronted with several possible stops, he was stumped. The trading cards simply said that the Flamels lived in Kent but it never said anything about _where_ in Kent they lived.

Harry got off of the bus at a random stop downtown. He sighed as he used his fingers to comb his hair away from his famous scar.

'_Better find the local wizards first.'_

It was easy to spot the local wizarding pub. Harry was roaming downtown with a warm Cornish pastry in one hand and a bottle of flavored water in the other when, between the sleek, modern sides of a Boots and a MacDonald's, he spotted The Dragon's Egg pub. It was wooden, ramshackle, filthy, and clearly being held together by magic. If the town's muggle leaders could have seen it, they would have immediately started campaigning to have it torn down as a public health hazard.

Harry went inside.

Inside the pub was dark, smoky, and had a low, stained ceiling. The walls were supported by splintering wooden beams and the plaster between the beams was a dingy shade of yellow. Most alarmingly, they were just as stained as the ceiling. Harry was fairly certain that there was a hag and a vampire whispering together in the booth farthest from the door. The bartender was tall and wiry with dark hair and darker eyes. He had that tired, unwell air that Harry remembered from when Remus taught at Hogwarts. Unlike the Remus in his memories, this one moved stiffly as if his entire body ached. He was also limping.

Harry's heart panged. _'When was the last full moon?'_

"Three nights ago," the barman said, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What's it to you?"

Harry startled, both pleased and alarmed over his slip of the tongue.

'_Maybe Remus really __**is**__ unwell. Has the wolfsbane potion been invented yet?'_

Harry shrugged. "I'll just have to harvest my potions ingredients next month."

The barman looked entirely unconvinced.

"I was looking for someone."

The barman snorted. "Aren't you a bit young for that?"

Harry shrugged. "They're a bit old for what you're thinking. I'm looking for Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel."

The barman snorted. "Don't know them."

"I found something that I believe belongs to them."

"So send them an owl. If they want whatever it is, they'll contact you."

Harry blinked. "Do you have an owl I can rent?"

The barman's eyes narrowed. "Seven galleons for roundtrip delivery."

"Isn't that a bit steep?"

"Special customer, special price."

Harry winced. _'Vengeance for that full moon comment.'_

He dug out a galleon anyway. "May I borrow a pen and quill please?"

"Seven galleons."

Harry sighed.

After all of the galleons had disappeared into the barman's pocket, Harry got a tatty bit of parchment, a self-inking quill with a split nib, and an owl that looked like it was considering how Harry's ear might taste.

Harry hurriedly scribbled a quick note and attached it to the owl's leg.

'_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Flamel,_

_Found your stone. Wish to give it back. I'm in The Dragon's Egg. If now isn't a good time, when would be better? Please send your answer with this owl._

_Yours, Harry Potter.'_

After letting the owl out through the back window, Harry cut his eyes toward the surly barman.

"How much to use the public floo?"

"Seven galleons."

Harry sighed. "Of course."

* * *

Aware that Alastor and Harry could arrive at any time, Albus was impatient to begin and end the final staff meeting of the school year. Unfortunately, his staff was taking their time trickling into the staff room.

Pomona and Minerva sauntered in together, their heads bent together as they discussed something in low tones. The two witches sat together, to apparently continue their discussion. A few minutes later, Filius and Septima entered the staff room together. Since those two got along famously, it was hardly a surprising sight. What was surprising was that they were with Hagrid. While Hagrid was on generally good terms with everyone, he and Septima Vector had very little in common and even less to say to one another.

"Filius," said Minerva as she nodded greetings in the new group's general direction. It was not generally one of Minerva's habits to nod while greeting someone that she knew well. "Septima. Hagrid."

Hagrid beamed. "Hey, Professor McGonagall!"

About halfway through the meeting, Filius nodded in head in response to some point that Sybil made. Since Filius generally had as little use for Divination as Minerva did, it was unlike him to encourage Sybil in her opinions.

'_Something is afoot.'_

The only point of real interest to Albus was Pomona's report regarding the development of the Mandrake roots. His experimental De-Petrification Potion required the harvesting of fully developed Mandrakes under a moonless night sky. Unfortunately, Pomona taught Mandrakes to the second and third years every other year rather than teaching the exact same thing every year. While it was a laudable effort to keep her lessons interesting and exciting for both herself and her students, it was bad luck that this was a year without Mandrake plants in the curriculum.

'_The timing is an odd thing. If she had done Mandrake roots this year or the attack had been next year, we would have been set.' _Albus thought as Pomona rhapsodized over how healthy and curious the childish Mandrakes were. _'As it is, the cure will not be available until nearly the end of the first quarter.'_

At the end of the meeting, when the staff was preparing to leave, Albus caught Severus' eye. It was not a matter of mental arts but rather long familiarity.

Severus' eye glittered knowingly as he filed out with everyone else.

When Alastor stumped through Professor Dumbledore's office fireplace that night, he was scowling. More importantly, he was alone.

"It's past sundown, Alastor."

Alastor glared at Albus so ferociously that even Albus felt a _tiny_ quiver of _concern_.

"I don't have him."

Albus stared, at a loss. "But –"

"How was I supposed to know that he was going to disappear into the muggle world?" snapped the younger man as he stomped the length of Albus' office then swung around and stomped back to Albus' desk. "Are you _sure_ that he's really Harry Potter?"

"Quite."

"Then there's something wrong with him. Kids aren't this… this… _cunning_. Normal children don't disappear into the muggle world when things go wrong."

Albus frowned. He tried to ignore the tiny sliver of his mind that agreed with Alastor. If there was something wrong with Harry Potter then the Wizarding World was doomed.

"He was raised there, Alastor. Hiding there probably feels quite natural to him. You'll have to patch your eye but –"

Alastor was shaking his head. "I'm an auror. And I'm the best. I've tracked a Death Eater flying downwind in a raging blizzard, while blinded and on foot, for hundreds of kilometers and brought him down with a rock at the end of it all. But I can't move through the muggle world. Dark Wizards don't go there so I never really saw the point in learning to operate there."

"Alastor, I must insist –"

"It's no good Albus. I can only think of two aurors who might have what it takes to track the crafty little bugger down and Tonks is still in training. You'll have to approach Shacklebolt yourself. Offer him a place in the Order before you send him after Potter."

Albus frowned. "It hasn't come to that yet."

Alastor snorted. "After what's rumored to have happened here this last school year, anyone with a lick of sense knows where things are going to end up. Best start preparing for the second war now."

"Alastor –"

"Fine. Don't listen to me. But if you want to see Potter again before the next school year, you'll take my advice and recruit Kingsley. He's the only fully trained auror up to the task."

Albus sighed. Plaintively he said, "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Alastor laughed.


	27. Chapter 27

I don't have any right to the Harry Potter franchise, characters, copyright, or trademark.

Thanks for the awesome comments! I really enjoy them!

Hopefully I'll have more time to write and update later in the summer...

* * *

When Harry slunk into Grimmauld Place the next morning, the morning's shadows were long and dark blue. The very edge of the horizon was tinted the palest of pinks.

And standing in the middle of the shockingly, sparklingly clean hallway was a balefully glaring house elf.

"Gaah!" Harry yelped. He stumbled back, slamming his back into the inside of the front door. "Kreacher!"

"Master Harry is late," the little house elf said disapprovingly.

"Um…yeah. I ended up spending the night at the Flamels' cottage."

For portraits, Mrs. Black and Grandmother Elladora Potter had quite a lot to say about boys who stayed the night with unknown wizarding couples without sending a message home to tell someone where they were. None of it was good. The only saving grace was that both witches had apparently decided that spending time with the Flamels counted as an academic fieldtrip.

By the time they were done, Harry was just grateful that his ears were not bleeding.

His face was also split in a huge, ridiculously happy smile. In the previous timeline only Hermione had ever dared to scold him for being selfish or stupid or both and worrying her. Mrs. Black and Grandmother Elladora were merely paint and magic but it was the closest that Harry had ever come to being scolded by relatives who _cared_ about him. Well, Mrs. Black's concern was probably more about successfully spiting two of the most powerful wizards in the world than about actually caring about Harry but Grandmother Elladora's portrait seemed to genuinely care for him.

Afterwards Kreacher made Harry breakfast. There were no portrait frames in the kitchen so Harry was delivered from the wrath of his Grandmother Elladora's portrait for a bit.

Over breakfast, Harrry jotted quick acceptances to the Timmonsons and the Larkins then answered the rest of his mail. When he read Remus' letter, which was all about trusting Professor Dumbledore and how much his muggle relatives must have missed him over the holidays and how worried he and Sirius and the Professor were, Harry's face scrunched up angrily. He burned the letter and obliterated its ashes. His letter to Remus was very short and very succinct.

It was one word, really.

No.

The ground floor may have been clean but the other floors were just as filthy as when Harry had first come to Grimmauld Place. Regulus' room and the bathroom on that floor were still delightfully clean though so Harry bathed and changed.

Clean and awake, Harry had no desire to read. He was jittery with left over anger and a lack of suitable outlets. He had already explored a cleaner and less dangerous version of the house in the previous timeline. And the Blacks, for all their faded grandeur, lacked anything remotely resembling a quidditch pitch. He was quite confident in his ability to perform the sixth year spellwork despite the lessening in his age and corresponding power. Most of his N.E.W.T.-level spells would be weaker than most sixth years' spells so Harry had concentrated more on the accuracy of his casting this time around.

His grasp of the practical aspects of sixth year potions material, however, was another matter entirely.

'_I'd understand the theory better if I could brew the potions. But I don't feel confident enough to brew those sorts of potions on my own.'_ Harry grimaced. _'And who'd ever have accused me of __**wanting**__ to brew anything? Especially on my own time? For __**fun**__?'_ Harry sighed. _'Doesn't this place have a garden?'_

There were two tiny gardens at Grimmauld Place. As a wizarding structure, the townhouse did not suffer from the same strict shape and size constrictions as the neighboring, muggle townhouses. The house itself, like the muggle townhouses around it, still had a basically (if slightly distorted) upside down L-shape to it. The front of the downstairs had the two parlors, coatroom, and grand entrance way while the spine of the L was made up of the grand staircase, formal dining room, a tiny pantry and staging area for food dishes brought up from the kitchen in the basement with steps down to the actual kitchen, scullery, and pantry in the first basement level. The stairs in the staging area to the kitchen were part of a longer set of narrow staircases that connected all of the levels of the house. (The special basement was below the first basement level. Harry refused to go down there until someone who was neither him nor Kreacher cleaned out.) In the hollow space left by the shape of the building was an outdoor garden that could be accessed from either parlor, the grand entrance way, the formal dining room, or the staging area.

Above the topmost landing which held Regulus and Sirius' bedrooms as well as their bathroom was the master bedroom and bathroom where Sirius had kept Buckbeak in the previous timeline. At the very top of the house, even above the master bedroom, were the attic and the orangery. At seventeen, Harry had never bothered to more than glance into the attic which was cluttered with large, sheet-draped objects, the garden, or the orangery. In a house where even the sheets would try to strangle you, voluntarily venturing into the attic was like asking to be murdered. The garden and the orangery were not only barren but also scorched by the time Harry had first come to Grimmauld Place.

'_Maybe I can plant something? Or find something Sirius or Regulus hid out there.'_

Without much hope, Harry tromped downstairs and out into the outdoor garden… and nearly into the waiting tentacles of a Devil's Snare.

"Solus Parvus!"

The murderous plant cringed back from the light as did an assortment of other plants. Two or three other species, however, lunged toward the glowing ball hanging over Harry's head.

Harry leapt back inside, slamming the door to the front parlor after him. From the relative safety of the inside of Grimmauld Place, Harry watched the plants seethe and writhe.

Harry smirked. _'I think I know what I'm going to study today.'_

When Kreacher came to fetch Harry for lunch, Harry was in the middle of hissing curses in English and Parselmouth while combating a vicious patch of Venomous Tentacula, Viperous Vines, and Raging Roses. The roses were cursing at Harry in English while the vines hissed at him in Parseltongue.

"It is time for lunch, Master Harry."

The wizened little house elf was frowning.

"Is something wrong?" Harry grunted.

"The Family does not do menial work." Kreacher pointedly added, "Like gardening."

"I was bored," Harry protested as he flailed his fire whip at the murderous plants. "Anyway, no one's been out here to straighten up in ages. _And_ it's good practice for Herbology class."

The house elf had narrowed his eyes then disappeared with a _crack_ of magic.

Thinking nothing of it, Harry finished beating that patch of plants back to an acceptable level of wildness then tromped inside for lunch.

"Kreacher! This is awesome!" Harry said cheerfully as he helped himself to several bacon and watercress sandwiches, a huge bowl full of yogurt and a bowl of spice cake and custard. "Mmmm. Everything smells great."

The ancient house elf bobbled his head as he opened one of the kitchen's high, narrow windows for any owls that Harry had missed that morning.

"Thank you. Excuse me, Master Potter."

_Crack!_

Nonplussed, Harry summoned one of Regulus' Occlumency books then dug into his meal.

After lunch Harry took muggle buses to The Leaky Cauldron. After greeting Tom the barman (and whoever happened to be in the bar and eager for a handshake with him), Harry used his wand to access Diagon Alley. Harry ignored the hugely tempting quidditch shop in favor of making his way to Gringotts as quickly as possible.

'_It's only a matter of time before someone tells Dumbledore on me,' _Harry thought grimly, remembering the last year of the war. Witches and wizards were, generally speaking, terrible tell-tales. _'Except for those ones that followed Neville. They seemed pretty solid. But that could've been from prolonged exposure to Neville.'_

Once inside the bank, Harry cooled his heels in a private waiting room until his accounts manager had a moment. When he was escorted into Bogfoot's office, the ancient goblin scowled at Harry mightily.

"You failed to make an appointment."

"An acquaintance made a suggestion that I come speak with you as soon as possible regarding a basilisk that I recently killed."

By 'acquaintance,' Harry meant Mrs. Flamel.

Bogfooot narrowed his eyes. "A basilisk?"

"And enormous one," Harry said helpfully. "It was about a thousand years old. My acquaintance suggested that I come to Gringotts regarding salvaging the creature for potions ingredients."

The slightest twist of the goblin's lips effectively bared the tips of his pointed teeth to Harry.

"Gringotts does not keep a potions master on staff to facilitate such a venture. We often arrange auctions for such valuable and rare merchandise for a small percentage of the auction's profits."

Frowning thoughtfully, Harry nodded. "But you do keep curse breakers on staff, right?"

"Correct. They are all bonded to the bank. May I enquire as to your interest in curse breaking?"

"I want to go through some of my inherited vaults. And the basilisk is in Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets. I'd like one on hand in case anything untoward crops up."

The goblin smirked nastily as he fished in his drawer for a small, stiff square of parchment.

"A wise precaution. Here is a list of our senior curse breakers. Do any of the names appeal to you at a glance?"

Uncertain, Harry glanced over the list of about twenty names then did a double take. Near the end of the list was the name 'William Weasley.'

"Yeah. A couple."

"Would you like their curriculum vitae?"

"Uh, sure."

Harry named three or four curse breakers, among them Bill Weasley.

Bogfoot rang for the smaller, and presumably younger, goblin who had shown Harry into Bogfoot's office. When Bogfoot had sent the other goblin, Marcus, to retrieve the curse breakers' curriculum vitae, he turned his attention back to Harry.

"There will also be a fee associated with using one of Gringott's curse breakers. And you'll have to pay the curse breaker's wages, of course."

Harry nodded as he echoed, "Of course."

'_Maybe I could get Mr. or Mrs. Flamel to harvest the basilisk? Or Professor Snape?'_ Harry shuddered at the mere idea of Professor Snape working for _him_. _'Ask the Flamels first, for sure. So a fee to the Potions' Master, two fees to Gringotts, and Bill's wages. This might be more expensive than I thought it'd be.'_

Just then Marcus returned with the curriculum vitae. He was wearing a rather impressive scowl.

"There is an auror asking for Mr. Potter in the atrium. He lacks the proper writs to demand Mr. Potter's production, however."

Harry frowned at Marcus. "Did you catch the auror's name?"

"Alastor Moody."

Harry scowled.

"While Gringotts is not technically under the Ministry's jurisdiction, the bank would prefer not to make an enemy of it," Bogfoot said to Harry with surprising diplomacy.

Harry shrugged. "I don't think this is ministry business. But you can show him in here if you want. I'll just look over your curse breakers and fees later and owl the information back to you. We can sign any necessary paperwork on another day."

Bogfoot nodded at Marcus who scampered out of the room. Harry pocketed the necessary papers before Alastor Moody, dressed in his official gray robes and wearing his shiny auror's badge, stumped into the room. His magical eye was whirling with sickening speed. Harry stared at him, fondness and irritation at war in his heart. Alastor Moody had been one of the creepiest adults that Harry had been on good terms with in the previous timeline. He had also, in his own disturbing way, tried to look after Harry. But there was absolutely no doubt in Harry's mind that Alastor Moody was there, asking to see him, on Dumbledore's business.

"Time to go, lad."

"Are you trying to kidnap me?"

Alastor Moody looked shocked. "What? No!"

"Is there a writ for my detainment?"

"No." Alastor Moody narrowed his eye at Harry. His magical eye came to a stop, peering suspiciously at Harry.

"You're not on official ministry business, are you?" Moody stared back at Harry, obviously refusing to be either uncomfortable or embarrassed. Harry narrowed his own eyes. "This sounds fishy. I think I need to contact my attorney."

"There's no need for any of that nonsense," growled Mad-Eye. "There are things that you don't understand afoot."

"I understand enough to know that I'm not going to willingly go anywhere with you or any other stranger supposedly sent by Professor Dumbledore." Harry said while desperately trying to remember what parts of the bank were covered by its anti-apparation field. He was fairly certain that the entire bank was under the anti-apparation field and that there were no fireplaces outside of the atrium. The bank would be easier to defend with only one entrance point. "After all, you know what they say."

"What?"

Harry took a deep breath. "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

The goblins winced, clamping their hands over their ears. Moody rocked back on his heels, appearing thoroughly amused.

"Is that so? I will, of course, convey your sentiments to Professor Dumbledore."

"Please do. And if you do see him please remind Professor Dumbledore that I'm an adult, I'm not inside of Hogwarts, and he has no right to send you or anyone else to kidnap me. I can do what I like with my summer. He can't _force_ me to do anything." Harry narrowed his eyes. "And if he or anyone else tries to shove me about, not only will I resist with everything I am but I'll also press charges where appropriate."

A smile twisted Moody's lips. It lit up his craggy features.

"You're a funny kid, Potter."

"I try."

When they both departed Bogfoot's office, Harry lingered a bit in the bank's atrium so that Mad-Eye Moody would have plenty of time to get clear of the bank's steps. Then Harry headed off toward Flourish and Blott's.

He may have gotten sidetracked for a bit by the Nimbus 2001's sleek lines. And he really needed a new broom maintenance kit. And researching chaser's brooms was one of his responsibilities since he had promised Wilhelmina Roper one if she made Ravenclaw's team.

It was three hours before he got to Flourish and Blott's.

Mr. Flourish was working the till.

"Do you have the book lists for seventh-year N.E.W.T.-level Charms, Potions, Transfigurations, and Defense?"

Mrr. Flourish squinted at Harry. "Aren't you a bit young for all that?"

"It's for my friend's older brother. They've got the dragon pox so my friend asked me to pick up the books for him. He wants to get ahead while he's sick."

Mr. Flourish took two steps back from Harry. "Right this way, please."

The Charms, Potions and Transfigurations books all looked interesting, and thick, enough. But when Mr. Flourish pointed out a complete set of Gilderoy Lockhart's books as the required seventh year texts, Harry grimaced.

"I'll pass on those. Do you remember what last year's required Defense texts were?"

They turned out to be the books that Harry had already purchased for his first year Defense classes.

He sighed.

'_Defense is a joke at Hogwarts. It's a wonder that Tonks made it into the auror program at all. Bet her mum tutored her over the summer.'_

Imagining what Andromeda Tonks nee Black's DADA lessons would be like made Harry shudder.

He purchased the Charms, Potions and Transfigurations books, promised to be back for his own textbooks later in the summer, and headed back toward muggle London.

'_Wonder what Kreacher's making for dinner?' _Harry thought contentedly. _'Does he know that I like treacle tarts?'_

* * *

Lucius was acutely aware of the way Narcissa's small, warm hand rested on his arm. He breathed deeply, greedily enjoying the way her favorite perfume clouded around them. When he subtly leaned closer to her, so that he could feel her warmth where their robed arms pressed together, the corners of Narcissa's mouth tightened. Her blue eyes darted toward him, the look in them cold and unfriendly.

But she did not push him away.

Lucius was inordinately, stupidly grateful.

It was obscene to spend nearly two days ripping a man's home apart in some asinine search for Dark objects on the strength of an anonymous tip.

Especially when that man's wife had spent nearly five weeks destroying every Dark, questionable, somewhat questionable, and vaguely worrisome object in the house. Treasured heirlooms, collectors' items, oddities, gifts, and ancient rubbish were all destroyed with equally thorough viciousness. Then Narcissa had destroyed every bed, chair, and surface that she thought the Dark Lord _might_ have once touched, even in passing. His entire drawing room, including the floor and ceiling, needed to be rebuilt and refurnished after the fire. Narcissa had not even bothered to sort through the things in the secret room under the drawing room. Rather, she simply stood at the top of the steps that led down into the secret room and destroyed everything in it. Then she collapsed the room entirely.

There was literally nothing left for them to find.

Lucius was still debating whether he needed to hire workmen or if he could do the repair work himself.

Lucius was still appreciative that, in their stupid, stubborn utterly Gryffindor fashion, Weasley and Scrimgeour refused to give up. Because as long as they were in the manor, Narcissa would pretend that everything was fine between them. And that meant letting him come within arm's reach of her without the threat of a thorough cursing hanging over his head.

He had weathered Narcissa's destructive phase and he was trying to respect her untouchable phase but it would be easier if he missed her less.

'_I wonder if I can persuade them to stay for lunch?'_

Lucius winced. Narcissa, her nails embedded in Lucius' arm, gave him a warning glare.

On his other side, Draco subtly leaned into his side. No one had gotten much sleep since the aurors had descended on the house like a plague of locusts. Draco, who seemed utterly determined to show no weakness to them, had not done more than doze during the past two days.

Exhausted or not, Draco was still glaring at Scrimgeour and Weasley as if they had personally offended him.

'_At least Potter hasn't managed to thoroughly corrupt Draco. Who could have guessed that even such a young Potter could possibly be so bothersome? Maybe he –'_

Lucius winced again.

'_Did she start sharpening her nails when she decided to start ignoring me?'_

"It seems like there's nothing Dark here," Weasley said, his tone grudging and his eyes still sweeping the hallway for some Dark object that Narcissa had missed.

'_For someone who so casually helps himself to others' property, you're being awfully sanctimonious Weasley.'_

Lucius had caught Weasley pocketing their Potter list while Narcissa and Draco were busy flooing their solicitors. The list could easily be replicated but Weasley's interest in it was curious.

"But we'll be watching you," Scrimgeour added severely.

'_That would've been more ominous coming from Mad Eye. Come to think of it, why isn't that old lunatic stumping around here and knocking holes in the walls?'_

A shiver slid down Lucius' spine.

It was always a bad idea to misplace Mad-Eye Moody.

'_Since I've already misplaced Mad-Eye, I might as well live dangerously.'_

"Gentlemen," Lucius said. "Would you care to stay for lunch?"

* * *

When Remus got back to his cottage from a long, hot day tramping street by street through a thoroughly unpleasant part of London, he found Albus Dumbledore waiting for him.

His ever present twinkle was notably absent.

"I've been trying to reach you all day," the headmaster said mildly. "Alastor Moody found Harry Potter in Diagon Alley."

"Really?" Exhaustion and aching muscles forgotten, Remus leaned forward. "Is he well?"

The older man's eyebrows twitched. "Alastor said that he looked well."

Remus grinned. "Where's Harry now?"

_I have to tell Sirius! Harry still has James' mirror so perhaps we can call Sirius using –_

"Unknown." Albus' mouth twisted. "He and Moody met and parted ways at Gringotts."

Remus' smile died. "He didn't try to get Harry to go with him?"

"Harry accused Alastor of kidnapping. It was more than enough to persuade Alastor to leave the boy where he was."

"And the goblins?"

"They were entirely uninvolved. Harry made several points that Alastor agreed with." Albus' voice was quite cold. "Alastor now thinks quite highly of Harry. He assumes that there's something _wrong _with the boy, of course, but my old friend approves of Harry's general attitude."

Remus tried to think what about Harry would endear itself to someone like Alastor Moody. _His_ memories were of a sweet child with James' laughter and Lily's eyes, James' leadership and Lily's determination to include everyone.

_He's a nice boy. He's trusting. He liked me the first time we met. And he's been remarkably patient and kind with Sirius. Sirius won't talk about it but it's obvious that Sirius found Harry before he looked me up again. He was trying to protect Harry from Wormtail so he must've gone looking for Harry. And, even though Sirius was probably terrible and frightening and obviously insane, Harry decided to look after him anyway. He snuck Sirius into Hogwarts, into __**Gryffindor Tower**__ itself, to take care of him. He's even paying for Sirius' solicitor. So he's sneaky and reckless like James and clever and pragmatic like Lily. Those qualities would appeal to Alastor. And he was bold and cunning enough to get Alastor so off balance that Moody didn't even consider just grabbing Harry and dragging him to the lobby's apparition point. Boldness, cunning, and aggressiveness would also appeal to Alastor._

Remus frowned, not liking the image of Harry that his thoughts were producing.

"Why was Harry at Gringotts?" he asked, as much from genuine curiosity as to turn his thoughts away from their current, distressing path.

"Alastor was unable to guess. Harry had been meeting with his accounts manager but the desk was cleared off by the time that Alastor was able to gain entry to the office."

Remus nodded. "Do we know anything else about Harry's movements?"

"After Gringotts, Harry spent time in the quidditch and book shops. He bought the seventh year books for three subjects – he claimed they were for a friend's older brother – then disappeared into muggle London. The only other information that we have is what you've been able to discover."

Remus recognized an order to report when he heard one so he told Albus about the fruits of his letter.

"I've spent the day going street by street through that area, looking for the wizard's house but I've not had any luck so far."

Albus nodded. "And Sirius?"

"Erm… still looking, I expect." Remus blurted, then immediately hated himself for hiding the truth from the headmaster.

Albus simply nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Carry on then, Remus. I shall have to see about finding someone capable of working through the other end of this difficulty."

"Professor?"

"Harry Potter used muggle transport to disappear yet he is apparently staying with an old and wealthy family that is probably pureblooded. That is… unique."

"So while I'm looking for the house, someone else will be looking into the muggle angle?"

"Exactly. We shall try to catch Harry between them. A pinching movement against a moody child. I daresay that it won't improve his temperament."

"Who's going to track Harry through muggle means?" Remus asked, trying to remember if they knew anyone who was more than curious about muggle inventions. No experts on muggles or their customs came to mind. "No one in our group knows enough about muggles to be able to do that."

But Albus Dumbledore merely smiled. "I shall have to make a new friend, I expect."


	28. Chapter 28

I don't have any right to the Harry Potter franchise, characters, copyright, or trademark.

Thanks for the awesome comments! I really enjoy them!

* * *

Filius was putting together a black puzzle with Septima Vector when Minerva wandered into his office. She transfigured his desk into a round table, charmed one of the students' chairs into running over, and then sat at his side. While they waited, she read 'My Year Among the Mongolian Yeti' at the table that had once been his desk.

Professor Kettleburn stumped in after Minerva. He settled himself at the table then busied himself smearing ointment on a set of new, and nasty looking, burns.

Aurora Sinastra slipped in next. She found a seat on Filius' other side and pulled out a sketchpad and pencils. While they waited, she sketched Minerva while she read.

Pomona and Hagrid arrived last. She had a smudge of dirt along her jaw line and a canvas bag of yarn. He had what looked like a giant spider web tangled in his beard. The chair Hagrid settled in creaked alarmingly under his weight. Filius subtly flicked his wand, reinforcing the chair and enlarging it slightly.

While Pomona fished her knitting needles out from among the rolled balls of yarn, Minerva closed her book with a resounding _thump_.

"I think that we're all here, Filius. Professor Binns had no idea who Mr. Potter was, Mr. Filch communicated his inability to say anything constructive on the matter, and Hooch, Irma, and Poppy all said that their interactions with Harry were too limited in scope to be able to add to the discussion."

"What was my excuse?" inquired a familiar voice; its tones were silky and absolutely lethal.

Severus Snape was standing on the windowsill, his robes blowing dramatically in the breeze. His stance hid his expression in shadows and his right hand held the shaft a broom. Over all, he looked quite ominous.

'_How does he do it?' _Filius wondered, forced to admire the younger man's entrance despite himself.

"Professor Snape!" rumbled Hagrid happily.

"I suggested your exclusion, Severus," said Filius levelly. "Your extreme disinterest in Mr. Potter led me to believe that you would be equally disinterested in this intervention."

Severus flicked a quick, sardonic look at Minerva.

"Forces beyond my control have forced me to take notice of the brat."

'_Albus,'_ deduced Filius. _'He's repeating his past mistakes with our new cast. Harry Potter as Tom Riddle and Severus for himself, perhaps? That would leave him in the role of Headmaster Dippet – deliberately oblivious to a professor's harassment of a student yet determined to show that same student favoritism to make up for that failure.'_

It would certainly help to explain the last minute points at the Leaving Feast. The only other plausible explanation – that Albus simply did not want Harry Potter to have such close connections to Slytherin House – was entirely unpalatable.

Minerva rolled her eyes at their former student.

"I think it's charming that Harry has taken such an interest in you, Severus," she said archly, "despite yourself."

Filius' eyebrows jumped. _'Does Mr. Potter want Severus' attention because Severus refuses to give it willingly or because of Severus' connection to Lily Evans? Or is it something else all together driving Mr. Potter's interest in Severus?'_

Hagrid choked on his laughter.

Severus snorted. "It's irritating beyond any conventional definition of the word."

"Join us," Pomona said. She leaned toward Severus. "It sounds like you may have quite a bit to add to our discussion."

"I'd hate to intrude," Severus said, biting irony lining the four words. The gaze he leveled on Filius was nearly accusatory in nature.

"I have nothing to hide from _you_, Severus," said Filius genially. He made an effort to convey the sincerity behind his words. "And we would welcome your insights. Indeed, I am not ashamed to admit that we would most certainly benefit from your peerless logic. However, I cannot help but feel that to attend this informal gathering may put you in a… precarious position with the Headmaster."

Severus' expression softened. He arched his eyebrows at them.

"You would try to keep secrets from Albus Dumbledore within the very walls of Hogwarts?"

Severus' tone was amused more than anything else. Filius relaxed.

"If an eleven-year-old wizard and his friends can do it, a group of professors with over three centuries of combined experience should be able to manage it."

Severus, using a broom, gently floated to the floor of the classroom.

"As far as I know, none of us are a Founder's Heir."

"Is that true then?" asked Aurora, as she leaned forward. Her thirst for knowledge had always extended to gossip as well as more academic pursuits.

Severus' mouth twisted into a scowl as he leaned his broom against the wall.

"According to Potter, he's an Heir twice over. Gryffindor _and_ Slytherin."

Into the surprised silence, Minerva placidly remarked, "That certainly explains his House preferences at the beginning of the year."

"And his obsession with _making_ those Houses get along," agreed Pomona.

"No, those are potential explanations," corrected Filius gently as Severus drew a chair up to the far side of the round table. Even in a group, the man somehow ended up sitting alone. "Mr. Potter may not have been operating under that information at the times during which he made his decisions."

Pomona sighed. "Ravenclaws. You make everything so _complicated_."

"He's right." Severus said. "You can't take anything for granted with a _Potter_."

"Gryffindors simply aren't as cunning as you'd like to think," argued Minerva. "We just aren't. Generally speaking."

"I'm the only one here who's never had Harry Potter in class. I've never exchanged two words with him so I think it's fair to say that I'm the most impartial person here." said Septima who taught Arithmacy. "And from an outsider's perspective, that whole business with the basilisk and Voldemort and the feast was both alarmingly reckless and unsettlingly cunning."

"He _did_ warn us," Filius told his former student and longtime friend. "He told us at the very beginning of the year that he was bold and cunning. He was quite honest about that even if his method of self expression was… disarming." His gaze slid to Pomona. "In fact, one might even accuse him possessing a Hufflepuff's obsession with that virtue."

"He was also correct that his tendency toward creating anarchy barred him from my House," sniffed Pomona.

Minerva smiled. "I would rather phrase it as his astonishing ability to attract trouble. To be fair, he directly caused very little trouble himself."

"That we caught him for," said Severus harshly. "There is no force on Earth that could persuade me that Potter had _nothing_ to do with the rash of school-wide pranks to plague the student body this year."

Minerva's smile widened. It was quite fond.

"I'm sure he did. As far as I can tell the first years Messers Potter, Longbottom, and Weasley as well as Miss Granger – yes, I was as surprised as you are Filius; I never imagined that Miss Granger or Mr. Longbottom would take up with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley – challenged the third years Messers Weasley and Jordan to a prank war."

"And you allowed it to continue?" demanded Severus, outraged.

"Generally, neither group leaves proof of wrongdoing."

"That's no excuse! I would _never_ allow any of my Slytherins to be so disruptive!"

"It's good for them. Among the younger children, Mr. Longbottom seems to be discovering his self-confidence, Miss Granger is beginning to relax, Mr. Potter is taking an active interest in his peers, and Mr. Weasley is striving to achieve. At the end of last year, I was beginning to worry that Fred and George Weasley and Lee Jordan were… turning out poorly. Their marks were abysmal. We all remember their propensity to blow things up, lock other students in closets or out of the castle or make them cry. I believe they only spared Gryffindor the brunt of their brand of humor because they have to sleep in our Tower. And I'll probably never be able to prove it but I believe they, not O.W.L.s-related stress, drove poor Helen Clearwater into having her nervous breakdown last year. This year, their marks are better and the instances of a single student being singled out for harassment or humiliation by those three are practically nonexistent."

"I suppose you don't include Potter in that equation," murmured Septima as she fingered a lock of her dark hair. Her hair had spent several weeks dyed a lovely shade of green. "Since he seems to give as good as he gets."

"No, I suppose its fine that they're now helping to terrorize the _entire_ student population since Potter's group is giving as good as they get."

"None o' them mean any harm, Professor Snape!" said Hagrid anxiously. "They're jus' high spirited. They're tryin' ta make people laugh!"

"Because nothing that makes those pubescent dunderheads laugh could _possibly_ be harmful."

Hagrid flinched.

"My Gryffindors loved it. The students who tried to imitate either group had some troublesome accidents but nothing too serious. Overall, the boost in morale and camaraderie within Gryffindor House was well worth any slight inconveniences."

"I don't believe the pranks are as harmful to a large population as they would be if they were done to a single child," hummed Pomona as she looped a strand of yarn around one needle. "My Hufflepuffs found them all quite delightful. All of them, from the first years to the seventh years, were excited to see what would happen next. If, however, any one of them had spent the year ink stained or forced to walk backwards or whatever nonsense that lot dreamed up, I imagine that individual would have been quite devastated."

"My Ravenclaws were quite put out with it initially. However, they seem to have developed a point-based game around finding the counters to the pranks. The older Ravenclaws were quite pleased when the counter charms and transfigurations were tested on this year's O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. There are some students, however, who are not taking the pranks as well as their peers."

Filius made sure that his own tones were as mild as possible. Severus was quite sensitive to bullying and unfairness from his own school years. As he was rarely involved with the disciplining of Slytherin or Gryffindor students outside of his charms classes, Filius was uncertain of all of the particulars surrounding Severus' interactions with James Potter but he knew enough to know that they had left a deep and lasting impression on Severus' psyche – and it was not a good one.

"My Slytherins were _humiliated_. They only took meals in the Hall because Albus refused to let them eat in their common room."

"Not too humiliated to play quidditch with Mr. Potter at Easter Break," Minerva pointed out dryly. "Nor were they too humiliated to wear the green hair dye to every Slytherin match after its invention."

Severus looked away, spots of color high in his cheeks. Filius felt a pang of sympathy for the Slytherin Head of House. Not all of Slytherin had taken the pranks as well as those students that Minerva had cited but to argue the point further would only expose Severus to a greater possibility of his own past being dragged into the discussion. Even if Severus was willing to expose himself to that sort of potential embarrassment, it was nearly impossible to persuade Gryffindors that others might be more sensitive than they were. This was particularly true when it came to Slytherin House whose members were generally, and quite paradoxically, the most sensitive members of the student body.

"How did they get a hold of that hair dye?" Pomona asked, oblivious to the undercurrents. "I must confess that my kits were quite jealous every time Slytherin House wore that dye to a quidditch match."

Humor and distaste mingled in Minerva's strained smile. "I believe Mr. LeStrange simply asked Mr. Potter for it."

Severus looked up, anger flashing in his eyes and twisting his mouth. Jeremiah LeStrange, like all of the other Death Eaters' children, was a sore spot between the members of the staff at the best of times. Since his Petrification, Mr. LeStrange had become potentially incendiary topic between the Heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin.

"So we can say for certain that Potter possesses a certain disregard for the rules and is a natural leader," mused Filius; hoping to head the brewing disagreement off. He conjured a quill and ink to jot down notes. "The, er, boldest personalities in Gryffindor seem to follow his lead."

"They _do_ obey him," Severus said grudgingly. His expression clearly said that he would much rather be arguing with Minerva over Mr. LeStrange. "As we all know the Weasley twins and Mr. Jordan rarely prepare for their academic classes. The completion of their homework is an even rarer occurrence. But they were always prepared for Mr. Potter's DADA tutorials. They always did the assigned reading _and_ homework on time and occasionally volunteered to answer Mr. Potter's review questions."

Filius' notes on that point were extremely thorough. It was especially important since it was data that was previously unknown to him.

"I heard that Potter's DADA review lessons were attended primarily by Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses," added Septima helpfully.

"There were a couple of Ravenclaws," Severus said. "The Roper siblings. They took part in that nonsense at the Leaving Feast."

Minerva looked thoughtful but she kept whatever she was thinking to herself.

"Harry's got a couple friends in all o' the Houses. You saw most of 'em at the Leaving Feast." Hagrid said gruffly. "He'd never say as much but I think Harry was a bit hurt when Hufflepuff dropped him over tha' rumors. The younger Weasley boys were madder than wet hens. Still are. Might want to keep an eye on that for next year. "

Pomona frowned, the clacking of her knitting needles suddenly sharper and harder. Loyalty was considered an extremely important trait within Hufflepuff House. The obvious failure of her kits to display it sat poorly with Pomona.

"Speaking of next year, I wanted to discuss Mr. Potter's classes at some point," interjected Professor McGonagall. "As this year has demonstrated, Harry Potter has entirely too much time on his hands. Merlin forbid that he find next year boring again."

There was a moment of horrified silence. Filius was uncertain what the others were thinking about but for himself, he was trying to remember if there were supposed to be any other hidden rooms or monsters in Hogwarts for Harry Potter to find.

'_Didn't Slytherin have a set of secret passages? And the other Founders all have their own retreats locked away somewhere within Hogwarts. What about the tales regarding that vanishing room? And there are all of the regular passages, of course. Except Mr. Potter snuck out with Peter Pettigrew in his pocket so it's safe to conclude that he's already found some of __**those**__. Unless he used the Slytherin passages…'_

"Who's teaching Defense next year?" asked Severus.

Minerva grimaced. "Gilderoy Lockhart."

A shudder ran through the witches and wizards seated around the round table. They had all been unfortunate enough to have taught Mr. Lockhart when he was at school.

'_Harry will eat him alive,'_ thought Filius with a touch of pity for the vain young man. _'So much for keeping Harry out of trouble.'_

"Then it will be safe to assume that Mr. Potter will be tutoring the fifth years again," said Severus. His expression indicated that he was torn between disgruntlement, resignation, and relief. It was probably quite difficult for him to spend time any amount of time with Harry Potter, even if it the time was spent merely overseeing Mr. Potter's detentions.

"You can't force him to teach classes, Severus," Minerva said. Her lips thinned. "As I understand it, this year's tutorials were a favor to Mr. LeStrange."

'_Potter really does have a weakness for Jeremiah LeStrange,'_ Filius thought as he scribbled that down.

"If the choice is scrubbing cauldrons or pounding five years' worth of DADA into woefully underprepared students, I guarantee you that Potter will choose the latter." Severus' thin lips twisted into a wry smile. "It's the Gryffindor thing to do."

Minerva narrowed her eyes at Severeus but a smile lurked around the corners of her mouth.

Aloud Filius asked, "Was it Mr. LeStrange's idea to open the lessons up to all of the Gryffindor and Slytherin fifth years?"

"Potter said that he didn't care who Mr. LeStrange invited," Severus said. "Mr. LeStrange invited his Slytherin year mates. Potter invited a handful of Gryffindors who invited more Gryffindors. He also invited the younger Ravenclaw and Slytherin students."

Filius narrowed his eyes thoughtfully as he recalled the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. written examinations.

"I noticed when I administered the DADA written exams this year that the Gryffindor and Slytherin students spent as much time writing as my Ravenclaws."

"Potter was a surprisingly thorough and knowledgeable instructor," Severus admitted extremely grudgingly. "And his students were driven to work hard for him. I'm vaguely interested to see what the final DADA marks will be."

"It's good to hear that Mr. Potter is a gifted Defense teacher," Pomona said mildly, "since he's an average Herbology student at best. I confess that I am quite bewildered as to how he learned enough Herbology to pass his O.W.L.s at all, much less with an Exceeds Expectations."

Filius frowned.

"Yes. Mr. Potter is gifted at charms but he is not extraordinary. If I applied the rate of informational acquisition that he has demonstrated over the past year to the period of time between the beginning of the year and his O.W.L.s there is simply no way that Harry Potter could have learned enough to achieve his marks. Even if I allow more time and give Mr. Potter the entire year before attending Hogwarts to study only charms, he simply does not learn quickly enough to have achieved his Charms O.W.L. Harry Potter is quite intelligent but he simply is not brilliant enough to have passed his Charms O.W.L. in the manner he implied."

"Perhaps his muggle relatives hired tutors," suggested Septima.

"Petunia Evans would _never_ willingly invite a magical person into her home, much less pay one for magical lessons."

Severus' absolute certainty brooked no disagreement.

"I looked in on the Dursleys' once," agreed Minerva. "They were the worst kind of muggles."

"Not so Hufflepuff-honest, is he?" said Pomona, a touch smugly.

The idea of Harry Potter as a Hufflepuff, or perhaps his immediate dismissal of the Badger's House at the beginning of the school year, had apparently stung her sensibilities.

"I agree with Filius. His potions abilities are adequate at best," said Severus, apparently ignoring Pomona's aside entirely. "Mr. Potter's knowledge regarding the most subtle science is neither as thorough nor as extensive as his familiarity with Defense Against the Dark Arts. There is simply no way that he learned enough to pass his Potions O.W.L. within a period of months."

"And Defense?" asked Septima, her eyes sharp at Severus' blantant omission.

Severus glared at her. When he spoke, it was almost as if every word pained him.

"He is… extraordinarily gifted in Defense. Brilliant even. But not even Harry Potter could learn to make a solid Patronus in so little time in addition to learning five years worth of material."

As the rest of the staff reflected on Harry Potter' average learning curves within their lessons, the general consensus was that as bright as Harry Potter was he was not _that_ bright. Although his learning curve improved drastically if the subject matter related to a topic that he was genuinely interested in, he would never learn fast enough to have taught himself five years' worth of material in nine subjects in two months or twenty-two months. The exceptions to that rule were, perhaps, in Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures.

"Harrry Potter may not value knowledge for knowledge's sake," said Professor Kettleburn dryly, speaking up for the first time. "But he has a powerful drive to survive; and an unholy fondness for his bodily integrity."

Since Professor Kettleburn had even fewer of his original body parts than Alastor Mad-Eye Moody, Filius had a feeling that Harry Potter's attachment to his limbs was less 'unholy' and more 'perfectly reasonable' in nature.

Harry Potter, it seemed, was strongly motivated by outside stimulus. The positive or negative nature of the stimulus was less important to Harry than his overarching _need_ for the information or skills.

'_If need is the key to Harry Potter's psyche,'_ Filius thought unhappily while the others debated Harry's curriculum for the next year. Pomona and Aurora favored moving him to the N.E.W.T.-level curriculum and being done with it. Minerva, and surprisingly Severus, favored leaving Harry's education as it was – unique to him until N.E.W.T. classes when he would be taught and judged alongside his peers. _'What does he __**need**__ such advanced education for? And does that key apply to his dealings with the other Houses? His year mates? And if he did not learn all of the necessary academic material – as indeed he __**could not**__ – then how did Harry Potter prepare for his O.W.L.s? Did he have access to a time turner?'_

"I've wasted enough time trying to create lesson plans that are neither too advanced nor too simple," seethed Aurora. "I'm not saying that I'd want him to complete the entire N.E.W.T.-level Astronomy curriculum in the standard two years. But surely he'd have the material down by fifth-year? Then he could take exams with his peers."

"I've had a great deal of success holding Harry's lessons as advanced lessons for anyone interested in the material," said Pomona agreeably. "I might even consider starting a Herbology Club. That said, Harry's tutorials will be more useful still if they also act as reviews for N.E.W.T.-level students in areas they're weak in."

"There's more to proper development than simply taking exams with one's peers," said Minerva coolly. "Harry has a great deal of power and knowledge, however he came about it. It is critical that he learn to interact with others as well as to care for them. He must be gently guided into become a responsible and mature adult."

"Or at least soundly thrashed into a semi-acceptable human being," sneered Severus. "If Harry Potter is even half as powerful as his behavior indicates then it defies any sort of logic to simply hustle him through the system and unleash him onto an unsuspecting world. As it stands, he would make an excellent Dark Lord. He's arrogant, intelligent, manipulative, charismatic, and casually violent. His inner circle already competes for his approval. Don't make that face at me, Minerva! I say that based on a year's worth of observation. In case it's escaped anyone else's notice, we rewarded him after he killed a professor, a basilisk, and a student in a single day!"

A shiver snapped down Filius' spine. _'We rewarded Tom after he killed poor Murtle… But Albus and Severus are wrong. Despite the unfortunate parallels Tom Riddle and Harry Potter __**aren't**__ the same sort of person.'_

"Professor Quirrell's death was his own fault!" snapped Minerva. "Absent a prior existing link, spirits cannot possess human beings without the victim's acquiesce to the spirit's co-inhabitance of the physical body. Professor Quirrell _let_ Voldemort into himself!"

"We cannot solely blame Professor Quirrell for a lapse in judgment that so many have suffered. It's often forgotten that in his early days, the Dark Lord was quite charming when he chose to be. Many of the original Death Eaters followed his cause because they _liked_ him. They became the Dark Lord's inner circle." Severus' lips twisted cruelly. "Rather like Potter. His peers go along with his insane schemes because they _like_ him. His inner circle would do whatever he asked of them. Gryffindor is in danger of raising a Dark Lord equal to the one that Slytherin raised."

"Harry's not a senseless killer. The basilisk needed ta be killed," rumbled Hagrid stoutly. "It's a shame that Harry had ta do it – I'm sure it was _beautiful _– but it was helpin' ta hold a student captive. Harry did the right thing. And none o' the students – not even young Draco Malfoy – _died_."

"I spoke with Lucius after the official reports had all been filed. The Dark Lord used the link established between the diary and Draco to possess Draco. He cast the Killing Curse on Potter –"

Horror pounded through Filius. Dimly he heard Minerva say, "Even if that is true, young Mr. Malfoy's conduct while possessed cannot be held against him, much less against Harry! He –"

"Harry Potter cast the Killing Curse on Draco," snarled Severus, neatly interrupting the Gryffindor Head of House. "To force the Dark Lord out of Draco's body, he _killed_ Draco."

"That – That's impossible," gasped Aurora. "If he had, Draco would be dead. What happened with the Potters was a one-time occurrence."

"And yet he did it. Lucius said that when Draco later asked Potter about that, Potter admitted to a _Soul Magics Mastery_."

The rest of the conversation disappeared from Filius' concentration. Instead, his entire focus was on the connections snapping into place in his mind. They were too fast to decipher at that moment but too right to deny. And if he slowed down, for even a moment, he might lose the thread of his thoughts.

'_Is it even possible?' _wondered Filius, as the final solution burst into existence in his mind. Amazement and fear mingled together only to be overlaid by his own terrible curiosity. _'Could Harry Potter have… Is it even possible… But it would make __**sense**__ of…'_

An overwhelming urge to declare the meeting over and rush off to the library crashed through Filius. Reluctantly, he turned his attention back to his colleagues. They were all flushed, their eyes literally glowing with the power of their magic and emotions. Power sifted about the room, crackling through Rubius' beard and frizzing Aurora's hair. To less magical beings, the room would have been stifling.

Apparently, during his inattention the discussion had taken a turn for the worst.

Filius bit back a sigh as he forced his impatience down.

"Harry Potter has no interest in following either the Dark Lord or Albus Dumbledore. He's already recruiting his own army," Severus was sneering when Filius started listening in again. "Unless we take an active interest in Harry Potter's development, we will end up with another manipulative, power-hungry Lord. Do you want to be responsible for unleashing _another_ one on the Wizarding World?"

Filius bit back a chuckle, enjoying the stunned silence following that statement.

'_Severus really __**would**__ have done well in Ravenclaw,'_ Filius thought happily, allowing himself to be distracted. _'He's logical and follows thoughts through to their end, no matter how unpleasant that end may be. That statement could just as easily have applied to Albus as Tom... And I believe he knows it. Even more importantly for this endeavor, despite his poor attitude, Severus has not entirely written Harry Potter off as unreachable. Perhaps Albus did not choose his replacement in this little drama as wisely as he thought. Severus Snape is not Albus Dumbledore just as Harry Potter is not Tom Riddle. More importantly at this juncture, Severus Snape himself has acknowledged those facts._

"You don't know that," Minerva said hoarsely. "Harry – he's just a _boy_. _James and Lily's son couldn't_ –"

"James was a lying, bullying toe-rag. No matter how much you loved him, no matter his alleged good qualities, and no matter how much death has sainted his memory, it remains a fact that James liked being the center of attention, liked having power over others, and had little compassion for those weaker than him." Severus said harshly. His bitterness faltered as he more gently added, "And no matter how good or kind or brilliant she could be, Lily Potter was also unrelenting, spiteful, and utterly vicious. She mastered _Blood Magics_ to protect her son. She and James Potter hid the secret of Godric's Hollow in another human's _soul_. The Potters were not perfect, glorious angels on the side of right. They were imperfect and powerful and they have produced an imperfect, powerful son who mirrors their greatest strengths and their worst flaws. _Now_ is the time to take advantage of Harry Potter's youth, alleged good nature, and relative malleability to shape him into a respectable human being before he becomes something that no one can control."

Minerva, Septima, and Rubeus were ashen as they considered the merits within Severus' words. Pomona, Kettleburn, and Aurora looked thoroughly unconvinced. It was evident that, to their minds, Severus had succumbed to a fit of hysterics.

Filius simply felt gloriously, delightfully _smug_. The concepts Severus expressed were not new to Filius. He had entertained similar thoughts himself regarding young Harry Potter, if not his parents whom Filius himself only bore fond memories of.

'_But herein lays the difference between you and Severus, Albus. You were Tom's first contact with the Wizarding World. You were the one charged with guiding his footsteps yet you never even considered trying to actively shape young Tom Riddle. You had very little interest in what your students did with their lives after they came to Hogwarts. In the years since, I think sometimes that you've over compensated for that mistake. Severus all but has a blood feud with the Potter family. He certainly has no formal responsibility to young Harry Potter beyond the general duties all teachers have to their students. You gave those duties to __**Hagrid**__ for reasons I have yet to fully discern. Yet, Severus won't allow this opportunity to shape Harry's nature to escape him. He is as aware of Harry's potential as you were of Tom's potential. He is as hypersensitive to young Harry's flaws as you were to young Tom's. But Severus is not you. He may hate the boy with every fiber of his being but Severus won't allow Harry Potter to wander into evil. And therein lays your miscalculation. Severus may flail and scream and handle the entire situation appallingly badly but he'll protect Harry Potter from harm. You've badly misjudged your proxy, Albus, and may yet have to answer for it.'_

"Perhaps a compromise?" suggested Filius into the weighty silence. "What are Harry Potter's current ambitions, Minerva?"

"Quidditch player or Auror."

Severus snorted. Filius smothered a smile. _'Those are certainly an adolescent's dreams.'_

"Does he have his electives for third year chosen?"

"He's already quite set on the idea of taking Arithmacy and Ancient Runes as his third year electives with his peers."

"What, no time for Divination?" asked Pomona slyly.

Minerva's dislike of Divination was nearly legendary among the staff members. Pomona, however, put a great deal more stock by the subject. No one put more stock into it, however, than Sybil.

Minerva flashed Hufflepuff's Head a tight smile. "He says that he dislikes the subject. Intensely. And no, I did not have the opportunity to influence his opinion."

"Presumably he'll want to take Defense, Charms, Potions, Transfiguration and maybe one other N.E.W.T.-level course his last two years," Filius said, redirecting the conversation. "It would do Harry no harm to take the N.E.W.T.-level courses in Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies, and Astronomy with an eye toward taking the N.E.W.T.s for those courses his fifth year. It will keep him occupied and out of trouble while allowing him to take the N.E.W.T.-level classes that he, ah, prefers with his peers."

"Muggle Studies?" asked Septima. "Did he even take that this year?"

Minerva's lips tightened into a grim line as she said, "No. But Harry Potter will _never_ take History of Magic ever again."

"Binns never even noticed he was missing," Aurora said. "He was lecturing to an empty classroom when I arrived to pick Harry up."

"Potter doesn't have the marks to make it into N.E.W.T.-level Potions," Severus interjected.

"Consider letting him in your part of the whole 'mold him into a worthwhile wizard' plan," said Septima cheekily.

"Harry Potter does _not _need further special treatment. He needs to be treated like everyone else."

"So let everyone with an Exceeds Expectations in that year." Septima volleyed back. "Call it an experiment."

Severus glowered. "I'm already doing my part! I've given up twice as many free periods as anyone else to teach the brat Potions and Defense."

As everyone else descended into good natured bickering, Filius discreetly sighed.

'_Now that I have the data that I needed, how do I get rid of them?'_


	29. Chapter 29

I don't own Harry Potter or its copyrights, trademarks, or franchise. This is for fun, not profit.

That said, thanks for the awesome reviews. They're really motivating as I fiddle with a tricky plot-thingy that won't settle properly. (Like so many things, its a little thing that snowballs into a big thing. But getting that first little thing in can sometimes be tricky.)

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

'_Schoolwork isn't as interesting when it's not forbidden,'_ Harry realized sadly. _'Something about doing it by torchlight while hiding under your covers makes it so much more exciting.'_

Harry, bent over a beginning potions book from the Black library, tried to remember if there was _anything_ other than his summer homework that he could do.

'_I've already looked at my post and written responses. And except for potions, I've finished revising my sixth year courses. And Kreacher is being odd about the garden right now so I can't go fight the plants and call it Herbology. And I need a partner if I'm going to get any better at Occlumency or Legimency. I think… I think I'm bored.'_

It was a novel experience.

In previous summers, Harry had been kept far too busy by his relatives and the Weasleys to experience the sensation. And there was always something interesting going on at Hogwarts. At eighteen, after less than a week of summer holidays, Harry had already run out of ways to entertain himself that would not draw unnecessary attention to him.

'_Is this why Hermione studies so much? Maybe I could start on the seventh year N.E.W.T. books? When's my first party? It's on a Tuesday isn't it? Last Tuesday I was playing quidditch. I want to go play quidditch! I wonder if Kreacher would mind terribly if I flew in the house after lunch if I promised not to hit anything.'_ Harry sighed._ 'Being bored isn't nearly as much fun as I'd thought it'd be.'_

With one last scornful look for his potions' textbook, Harry abandoned it entirely and ventured into the library. He browsed the bookcases, grateful that Kreacher had decided to clean the room for him. The display case was still quite creepy and the shadows in the room were just a bit too substantial for Harry's tastes but it was nice to no longer have to worry about disturbing the doxies or having to step over rotting rubbish.

Harry selected a few interesting looking defense books and a slim volume on the basics of blood magic before he retreated back to the kitchen. It was still one of his favorite rooms in the house.

'_As soon as study hall is over, I'm definitely going out. I don't know where I'm going to go or what I'll do when I get there, but anything is better than this.'_

An hour later, when a familiar bundle of ragged feathers and bones sailed through one of the kitchen's high, narrow windows which had been left open after the morning post and collapsed in the middle of Harry's defense book, Harry was deeply grateful.

"Errol!"

A moment later a beloved white form swooped through the same window. She perched herself on Harry's shoulder where she immediately began grooming his shaggy hair.

"Hedwig! You brought Errol!"

After both birds had been offered water and owl treats (Errol accepted both offerings while Hedwig seemed content to see to Harry's hair), Harry untied the scroll from Errol's skinny leg.

The first part of the letter was in Ron's messy script.

Dear Harry,

How are you? We're fine. We got home from the station okay. Mum and Ginny baked us a feast! I know that there's nothing like Hogwarts' feasts but there's nothing like my Mum's cooking either. It's the best! (Which you'll get when you come visit us. Is August okay for you?)

Harry smiled. As someone intimately familiar with Mrs. Weasley's cooking, Harry agreed.

'_Her cooking __**is**__ the best in the entire world. It's like coming home.'_

Not that any of the Weasleys in the current timeline would have any reason yet to know that he felt that way.

The letter switched to Fred's handwriting.

Harry – we're working on some new material. Don't get too comfortable this summer because next year, we're going to blow you away!

There was a jagged line then the handwriting switched to Percy's careful penmanship.

Harry – I've started your summer assignment. Is five feet the minimum amount that I can write or is it the exact amount that I can write? Also, I'm having trouble with the research part of the assignment. The texts we have from our previous DADA classes don't contain enough information on some of the elements within your hypothetical for me to adequately evaluate the situation and render my best response. (Additionally, is this assignment for you or for our next Defense professor? Are you adequately qualified to teach sixth year N.E.W.T. classes? Do you know who the Defense professor will be next year? Do you know what books we'll be assigned?)

There was another jagged line across the paper, probably where one of the Weasley brothers had wrenched the scroll away from Percy.

George was next.

The rest of us haven't started our summer assignments yet. We just go out of school! We need to live a little! Write back soon! (And bring firecrackers when you come to visit!)

The letter was signed by all four Weasley brothers.

Grinning, Harry settled down to write a response to the Weasley brothers then, while he was thinking about it, wrote a carefully worded letter to the Flamels in which he inquired as to whether or not he could hire either of them in their capacity as Potions Masters.

* * *

Harry pressed his forehead to the cool glass, watching the countryside slide by through the bus' window. Fields and hedges bled into green blur. Cars slipped past in quick, sharp blurs, disrupting the pretty scenery. Lorries and buses moved ponderously alongside Harry's window, blocking out Harry's view of the countryside all together. But after so many years in the Wizarding World, even watching the other people on other buses do crosswords or read or even stare back at him was interesting and reassuring.

Muggle buses, while slow, were far less dangerous than the Knight Bus.

'_Plus, Dumbledore probably won't think to look for me on one.'_

It was nearly three in the afternoon when Harry got off of the bus in Little Hangleton.

It was a small village, not much different from the village where Harry had grown up with the Dursleys.

Harry winced at the thought.

'_Poor Merope.'_

It was easy to spot the Riddle Manor. It crouched on top of the slight rise, overlooking the village. Even from a distance, Harry could see that the roof was caving in and that there were holes in the walls. He could just make out the village chapel, attached to the western side of the property.

'_And the graveyard is probably behind that,'_ Harry realized, shuddering with remembered pain and fear and guilt. He forced it all away. _'None of that's happened yet. And I won't let it happen. Now where's the Gaunts' shack? There's no way it'd be anywhere near some place like a muggle manor house.' _Harry smirked._ 'Heh. I bet the Riddles and the Gaunts both would've thought they were too posh to live next to each other.'_

Harry bought a late lunch at a local sandwich shop and saved the plastic bag. He bought a muggle book bag and a red sweatshirt from a local shop. Then Harry set about trying to ask the locals about the Gaunts. Unsurprisingly, most of them were not inclined to be helpful.

"Why would a nice-looking boy like you want to know about _them_?" asked a blue-haired grandmother. She sucked on her dentures as she peered at Harry suspiciously. "It was a blessing when they finally died out."

"I thought there was a girl? Merope Gaunt? She married Thomas Riddle."

"Oh yes!" The old lady beamed. She bore an uncanny resemblance to Ron's Great Aunt Muriel. "Such a delightful scandal! He dropped pretty, blond Jane Swann for poor, plain Merope Gaunt of all people! They eloped! He came back here, alone, about a year later and never left his manor again. They say she had his child though. Wonder whatever happened to her." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "Both families died a few years later. _Murdered._ They say that little Merope had her revenge in the end."

Harry winced.

'_Even in death, poor Merope can't catch a break.'_ Outrage on her behalf welled up in Harry. _'What she did to Tom Riddle Senior was inexcusable but no one seems to have expected any better of her. Merlin, they even expected her to be __**worse**__.'_

Made reckless by his indignant thoughts, Harry said, "She died in an orphanage after giving birth to her son. She named him after his father."

The old woman drew back, her eyebrows knitting into a frown. Her watery eyes trailed over Harry more carefully, cataloging his features and comparing him to the faces that she remembered.

"What did you say your name was again?"

"Harry James Potter."

Relief crossed her wrinkled old features. "Not a Riddle then."

Harry shook his head. "I'm related to Merope Gaunt through my mother."

The old woman hissed sharply. She drew back as if Harry had slapped her.

"I didn't –"

"Don't worry about it," Harry said hurriedly. "It's all old history. It has nothing to do with me. I was just looking for the families' old places. I found the old Riddle place. That one was obvious. But I can't seem to find the old Gaunt place…"

"It's –" The old woman's mouth snapped shut. She sucked on her dentures for a moment. She squinted at him suspiciously. "Where're your parents, boy?"

Feeling guilty for his ruthlessness, Harry said, "The village cemetery in Godric's Hollow."

She flinched, obviously thrown off balance by Harry's answer. "Oh. I'm so sorry. I –"

"Don't worry about it." Harry flashed a quick, reassuring smile. "You couldn't've known. Could you point me in the right direction?"

He carefully memorized her directions.

When he turned to go, she called "Aren't you going to wait for your guardian?"

Harry flinched then turned back to face the old woman with his brightest smile.

"He's about. He's probably buying some dreadful keychain somewhere. He likes things like that. We're meeting in the pub at seven so I've got plenty of time to find the Gaunts' place and get back."

Harry hurried away before she could ask any more questions.

The Gaunts' shack was quite a walk from the village. It was a ramshackle, rotting husk in the middle of the only patch of woods in the area.

It was also infested with snakes. The ground inside of what used to be the building literally gleamed and shimmered with the shifting mass of hundreds of snakes. The soft rustles of their bodies moving over each other nearly drowned out the soft hisses of their language.

It was an intimidating sight. Even for a Parselmouth.

"_**Hello."**_

"_**Hello."**_

It was the first time a natural snake had been unfriendly, even distrustful, toward Harry.

'_Tom certainly had a way with serpents,'_ Harry thought wryly as he found an empty spot to sit down. _'This is going to take awhile.'_

* * *

When Albus stepped through his grate that evening, he found Severus waiting for him in his office. The Potions Master was sitting in one of the squashy armchairs across from Albus' desk. He was paging through Albus' day planner.

"I was unaware that you had a meeting this morning. It's not in your schedule."

"It was a last minute engagement," Albus lied. "It was quite urgent."

Severus looked up, his dark eyes calculating. "I can always come back anther time if you're busy."

Albus, remembering how satisfactorily his meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody had concluded, smiled as he settled into the seat behind his desk.

'_Kingsley will find Harry in a matter of days,'_ Albus thought contentedly. _'Then it will simply be a matter of persuading the boy to fall into step with the greater good.'_

Harry had proven to be worrisomely stubborn but Albus was certain that given time and the proper stimuli, Harry could be molded so that his stubbornness was properly directed toward other targets.

"I just concluded the matter. I'm quite encouraged by the results. Now how can I help you, Severus?"

"I looked into the matter from the staff meeting."

"Oh?"

"Harry Potter's teachers were having a meeting to discuss his curriculum for next year. He will not be taking History of Magic ever again."

"I should hope not." Harry's misplacement had been quite inconvenient. It was nearly disastrous. "Did you not teach two of Harry's core curriculum classes this year?"

Severus' mouth twisted into the ghost of a smirk.

"Filius believed that I would be uninterested in his little meeting."

"Filius?" Albus asked sharply. Unease thrummed through him. "Didn't Minerva arrange the meeting?"

"The meeting began as a discussion of Harry's oddities. At Minerva's suggestion, it devolved into a discussion of his class schedule."

Unease upgraded to apprehension.

"And Filius accepted that? He didn't redirect the conversation?"

"He threw us out shortly after we finalized Potter's schedule for the next few years. Nicely, of course, but an eviction is still an eviction. He's been in the library ever since."

Apprehension bloomed into full blown alarm.

'_Filius must have found whatever piece of information he was looking for.' _Albus steepled his fingers together. _'What did he learn from them that I don't already know?'_

"Tell me everything that you discussed, Severus."

Some emotion, too quickly gone for Albus to properly identify, flittered through Severus' eyes and tightened the corners of his mouth. Then Severus' expression was once again smooth and vaguely sardonic.

For a moment, Albus wished that he could use Legimency on the Potions' Master.

'_But it's wrong to use Legimency on staff members,'_ Albus reminded himself. _'It's one of the Rules.'_

And anyway it was impossible to use Legimency on Severus.

"I entered through the window…"

* * *

It was quite late, and Harry was actually wearing his new jumper, when the snakes finally agreed to fetch the ring for him.

By the time they had used their undulating bodies to move it from down one of the many, many snake holes Harry had his plastic bag out and open. The snakes somehow managed to flick it into the plastic bag, which Harry immediately tied up. Then he took off his jumper and wrapped that around the plastic bag. Finally, he stuffed the whole mess in his new book bag and thanked the snakes for their help.

Finding his way back to a road, even with his wand tip to light the way, was a lot more difficult. He only twisted his ankle twice before he stumbled onto a long, straight bit that was so smooth that it had to be covered in tarmac.

'_No muggle bus driver will give me a ride this late,'_ Harry decided at last. _'Not without asking a lot of uncomfortable questions. And I'd rather no one knew that I can apparate until it's too late to stop me from escaping.'_

He sighed.

'_Merlin, I hate the Knight Bus.'_

Then Harry held out his wand.

_Bang!_

Further down the road, the Knight Bus popped into existence. It careened toward Harry, red death balanced on only two of its four available wheels.

Harry threw himself backwards, falling through the hedge behind his body, as the bus rolled over the spot where he had been standing. There was a long, terrible ripping sound and Harry's left arm hurt. His back hit the ground so hard that it left Harry still and breathless. Wetness rolled down the length of his arm.

"Oi!" shouted a familiar voice. Harry clenched his teeth. "You can take a nap on the bus!"

Harry staggered up right, his eyes fixing on the bus with murderous intent, and then limped toward the four-wheeled menace.

"Have either of you ever heard of a driver's license?" Harry demanded in a low, dangerous tone as soon as he was near enough to Stan.

It was hard to tell but Stan was maybe fifteen or sixteen and had probably only recently been hired to be a conductor by whoever owned the Knight Bus service.

"Muggles 'ave 'em, right? What'd Ernie and I do with one of those?"

Harry dug out the appropriate coins, all but flinging them at Stan in his haste and rage, and then stomped onto the bus.

"'Ere now, I know it's late but that's no reason to be unfriendly!"

"Where to?" grunted Ernie.

Harry hesitated a moment, his rage momentarily faltering as he tried to remember the basic layout of the London Underground.

'_Doesn't the Circle Line go through Paddington?'_ Harry mused. _'And the Circle Line goes through…'_

"Sloane Square. It's in Chelsea in London."

Ernie bobbled his head in a nod.

'_It wouldn't do to lead Professor Dumbledore anywhere near Grimmauld Place.'_

"Why d'you want to go a place like _that_?" asked Stan. A knowing look flittered across his face. "You're a muggleborn, yeah?"

Harry ignored him entirely, storming past two witches and a wizard to claim the very last bed on the bus. It was petty but Stan was going to have to walk a very long way to deliver Harry's hot chocolate.

Once there, Harry plopped himself onto his chosen bed and inspected his arm. The cut was long and shallow, ripping his arm open from the top of his shoulder all the way down to his wrist. It was bleeding sluggishly and it stung horribly but it would not scar.

Probably.

Maybe.

'_Who am I kidding? I don't know the first thing about mediwizardry, much less whether or not a scrape will scar!'_

The sleeve of his shirt was shredded and there was another long, ragged rip in the left side of his shirt. Luckily, the scrape there was so shallow that it did not even sting.

Harry used the only healing charm he knew on his arm and side then repaired his shirt as best he could. By the time Stan finally brought Harry his hot chocolate, the careful spell work had done a lot to calm Harry's temper.

'_I don't even want to curse Stan. Much.'_

But it was a relief when the bus finally stopped in Sloane Square. Harry scrambled off of it and headed for the nearest entrance to the underground.

Once he was seated on the appropriate subway car, Harry turned his attention to his book bag.

His heart nearly stopped.

Ripped wide open, the book bag was empty.

Harry got off the train at the next stop and stuck out his wand for the Knight Bus.

"You again," Stan said with obvious disappointment when Harry picked himself out of the bushes. "We just dumped you off. Innit that right, Ernie?"

"Forgot something on the bus," Harry said as he pushed his way past Stan and back onto the Knight Bus. "A sweatshirt and a ring fell out of my bag."

"There was nothing in your bag," Stan snapped, dogging Harry's step as he started down the aisle, carefully checking under each bed and squashy chair.

Under Harry's feet, the bus lurched into motion.

"I had them before I got on the bus," Harry argued as he searched.

"No you didn't," Stan said. "Your bag was ripped open when you got on. I know because I remember thinking that it was odd."

"It was?" Harry rounded on Stan. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Don't get _shirty_," sniffed Stan. "It's not like you were friendly to me."

"You nearly ran me over! My bag must've gotten ripped open when I jumped into that hedge!"

"Why'd you do a dumb thing like that?"

Shouting with wordless frustration, Harry straightened and turned on Stan. Stan took one look at Harry and his wand, squeaked, and scrambled back to the front of the bus and Ernie's dubious protection.

Disappointed over losing his opportunity to hex Stan, Harry pocketed his wand and went back to searching.

Four hours later Harry was hopelessly searching the Knight Bus' lost and found. He had already searched it three times, crawled under all of the beds, peered under all of the squashy armchairs, and inspected the length of the aisles on both levels.

Stan and Ernie had been replaced by the blond and brunette girls who had driven Harry to his parents' graves then back to Hogwarts after Harry's official emancipation proceedings had ended. They were sleepy but cheerful.

"Stan says that you haven't paid yet," the blond said while nursing a cup of tea. When Harry had lost interest in the lost and found, she had followed him back to the bed that he had initially claimed before everything went so horribly wrong. Once again, it was just him and the Knight Bus' conductor and driver. "You've got to pay before we'll let you off."

"I've got to find my ring," Harry grunted as he squirmed into the dusty space under the bed. "I'll pay when I find it."

"Stan says that you didn't have it when you got on the bus."

"Oh, well if _Stan_ says."

The girl grimaced. "You were nicer last time."

"I wasn't _scared out of my mind_ last time!"

Mild concern laced her expression. "The ring's important then?"

"A family heirloom." Harry jerked out from under the bed to shoot her a severe look. "A _deadly_ family heirloom. Whatever you do, don't touch it."

"D-Deadly?" Squeaked the blond. "What's it do?"

Harry paused, remembering Albus' withered hand and the spirits of his dead.

"Don't know. I just know that it's dangerous. That's why I wrapped it in the sweatshirt." His tone turned bitterly amused. "I was trying to take it home and destroy it."

The girl, whose name turned out to be Beatrice, helpfully crawled under beds and peered under squashy armchairs but to no avail.

"It must've fallen out of my bag before I got on the bus," Harry concluded glumly after a final, failed effort to find the ring with a summoning charm. "It's in a _field_."

"Why don't you take a break and have a nice, quiet lunch? And maybe a quick nap afterwards since you've been up all night," suggested Beatrice. "I'll see if Ernie wrote where they picked you up in the log books. Then Allie and I can drop you there."

"Thanks."

After a lunch and a long nap, as per Beatrice's suggestion, Harry spent the rest of his day casting failed summoning charms and combing the hedges and fields around the spot where the Knight Bus had nearly flattened him. Tired, scratched, and disheartened, it was nearly dark when Harry started considering just apparating back to Grimmauld Place and starting his search again in the morning.

Harry yelped when _crack_ of magic produced Kreacher, Hedwig, and his trunk.

"Master Harry must _stay away_ from Grimmauld Place!"

The old house elf disappeared in another _crack_ of house elf magic.

Alarmed and suddenly homeless, Harry stared at the spot where Kreacher had been.

'_What's going on? Did he pack my mirror? My books?'_

A quick inspection of his main trunk compartment showed that Kreacher had indeed packed all of Harry's things and had even packed Regulus' books and journals as well as the books from the library that Harry had been reading.

Reassured, Harry turned his mind to his other pressing concern.

'_Where am I going to stay? The Weasleys and my places and the Leaky Cauldron are out. Most of my friends from Slytherin aren't the sort of people you just drop in on, except maybe the Malfoys. Except I'm trying to get Lucius Malfoy thrown in Azkaban so maybe not. If I visited, I could see if the DMLE had raided their manor yet. Eh, I'd be better off waiting for an invitation to __**something**__. I'm not going to owe any of the Hufflepuffs a favor. I'm just not. And I'm not close enough with the Roper siblings or Luna to ask if I can bunk with them. So that leaves who?'_ Harry narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. _'Neville. Am I good enough friends with Neville to just show up on his doorstep and ask for a place to bunk? Where does Neville live anyway?'_

Harry turned his attention to the disgruntled owl in her cage.

"Hedwig, I know you're cranky but this is an emergency," he said as he let the owl out. Hedwig nipped at his fingers quite harshly but settled on Harry's shoulder easily enough. He rooted around in the main compartment of his trunk to produce a crumpled bit of parchment and a rather battered self-inking quill. "I'm going to write a letter to Neville Longbottom. I need you to take it to him immediately and wait for a reply."

Harry considered for a moment then hastily scribbled a quick letter to his friend.

When he attached it to Hedwig's leg, he whispered, "Be careful, Hedwig."

The owl nibbled his ear fondly then launched herself from his shoulder.

* * *

It had been difficult tracking Harry through the muggle's public transport. At first, he had difficulty connecting with the muggles. His hair was long and wild and his clothes were wrong and even without being a very good legimens he knew that he frightened the people around him.

'_They know they know they know that you're just Harry's dog and not even that any more. And he doesn't want you anymore and – And you have to find him. Find him first. Focus! How will I make these people tell me where Harry is?'_

So Sirius studied the people around him. He memorized the way that they talked, the way that they moved, and the way that they dressed. He remembered what mannerisms and speech patterns worked well and which ones utterly failed their users.

'_Because I'm insane, not stupid,' _Sirius thought grimly as he transfigured his clothes into styles that the people around him would respect. '_And now I have to be a muggle… You have to be James-as-a-muggle to find Harry and James was never a muggle and wouldn't James laugh if he saw this and he'd enjoy pretending to be a muggle but he probably wouldn't like the part where Harry's lost and – Focus! Harry needs me to be James-as-a-muggle right now!'_

But it was all so, so _hard_. Especially the part where he had to pretend to be James.

'_It __**should**__ be James here,'_ his treacherous, fractured mind whispered to Sirius while he charmed the bus driver into talking about the small, dark-haired boy that he really only remembered because the boy had been so _strange_. '_You've kept him away from here and now you have to be him or they won't help you and you'll never see Harry again. And –'_

"It's not his fault!" Sirius barked sharply then hastily added, "He's going through a rough time. We both are." Feeling awful but knowing that the man would respond best to an explanation that he could sympathize with, Sirius added, "His mother died. Recently."

To Sirius, at least, it felt recent.

The bus driver's expression softened even as he took a sharp left.

'_And you're pretending to be his father. You're not his father. Jamie is. It should be James here, talking to this man, being frightened for Harry. But you killed Jamie. You killed Harry's father. And his mother. And now you're pretending to be his father… to be James… No one can be James… Not even you. Not even Harry Potter who is definitely not James Potter. This is important to say because Remus needs to hear it. Often.'_

The bus driver had let him off where he had let Harry off. It had taken forever to find the bus and bus driver that Harry had used after that and then to have to do it all over again at the next bus station.

It had been hard and boring and he was so frightened for Harry – '_because I've already lost James and failed James and I've failed Harry and I can't __**lose**__ him'_ – but it had all been worthwhile when the last bus left Sirius at a stop that only it serviced.

Even with dusk's long shadows to gently obscure the worst bits of the neighborhood, Sirius knew exactly where the muggle bus driver had let him off.

He gazed around himself with undisguised horror. _'Harry came __**here**__?'_

To Sirius' knowledge there was only one wizarding home in this particular area of London.

It was one that he had sworn that he would never set foot in ever again.

Sirius stormed down the sidewalk, the ragged edges of his memories swirling around him and cutting into his psyche. His footsteps faltered but he set his jaw and kept going.

'_If Harry's hiding there, then he needs me.'_

When Number Twelve Grimmauld Place shouldered itself into existence, Sirius shuddered. He _almost _turned around and left.

'_But Harry might be in there.'_ He reminded himself. _'With Kreacher. And mum's portrait.'_

That thought was enough to force Sirius up the steps and through the front door.

_Crack!_

Kreacher popped into existence, peered at his face, and then popped out of existence again, leaving Sirius with the memory of the old house elf's expression.

Horror. Sheer horror at the sight of him.

'_That's right. I own you now you filthy little monster.' _Sirius thought, his eyes narrowing. '_And as soon as I have Harry, we're going to leave and then I'm going to forget all about you again.'_

"Harry!" he shouted. "Harry, where are you? It's Sirius!"

No response.

'_What if something in here's killed him? What if __**Kreacher**__ caught Harry and has been torturing him all this time and now he's gone to __**kill**__ Harry?'_

Panicked, Sirius ran from room to room, shouting for Harry.

"Kreacher!" Sirius shouted, coming to a halt in the center of the back staircase. "Kreacher!"

The tiny old house elf popped into existence in front of Sirius. "Yes, Master?"

Under his breath Kreacher muttered, "Nasty filthy blood traitor. Broke the Mistress' heart, he did."

"Where's the boy who was staying here?" snapped Sirius, ignoring the house elf's mutterings entirely.

_Because I am focusing on finding Harry!_

Triumph lit in Kreacher's horrid eyes. "Master Harry has gone! He's safely away from _you_."


	30. Chapter 30

I don't own the Harry Potter characters, franchise, copyright, or trademarks. This is for fun, not profit.

I cite RL and NaNoWriMo for the delay. But the chapter is a bitt longer than usual.

Thanks for all of the comments and reviews! They're inspirational and they help me to stay on track, plotwise.

Enjoy!

* * *

Enraged, Sirius wordlessly shouted and lunged at the wretched little beast. One hand closed around Kreacher's scrawny neck while the other backhanded the elf across the face.

"Where's Harry?"

Kreacher grinned maliciously. "Kreacher doesn't know."

_Smack!_

Kreacher's pale green tongue darted out to lick up the dark green blood dribbling from his split lip.

"Take me to where you last saw him."

_Crack!_

A breathless moment later, Sirius landed in a ditch. He took a moment to simply lie on his back and count his appendages, check that his nose was still attached, and admire the sunset.

After that Sirius heaved himself to his feet.

He was in an utterly empty field.

There was no Harry anywhere as far as Sirius' eyes could see.

Despair crashed over Sirius, robbing him entirely of his forward momentum. He plopped down in the ditch again and promptly turned into Padfoot.

Miserable and lonely, Padfoot curled up into a tight ball. His nose under one forepaw, Sirius whined to himself.

It was quite some time before it occurred to Padfoot that he should be looking for his Boy.

_I was hunting for him… Why am I still here?_

Padfoot stood. He began to sniff about, searching for the Boy's scent. An old trail led into the woods. The newest trails crisscrossed the fields and cut through a particular patch of hedges many times. The very newest scent trail followed the line of the road.

Padfoot yipped happily then loped after the Boy's scent.

He followed it around meandering curves and down a lane where a small, dark-haired boy was jogging toward a nearby cluster of buildings.

Barking happily, Padfoot raced up to the Boy. He danced around the Boy's pumping legs, nudging a knee here and licking the palm of a hand there.

"Gah!" The Boy stumbled to a stop. "Y-You! Padfoot!"

Barking, Padfoot made the most of the opportunity and leapt at the child. They tumbled into the ditch at the side of the road in a tangle of boney limbs and fur. He licked every inch of the Boy that he could reach.

"Ugh! Ger'off Padfoot!" The Boy shouted between giggles and cries of disgust. He was delightfully ticklish. He nonetheless shoved at Padfoot's broad shoulders. "Get off you great slobbering monster!"

When every inch of the Boy's face, hands, arms, ears, and throat dripped with his saliva, Padfoot yipped happily. Gloriously pleased with himself, Padfoot draped his upper body across the Boy's stomach and chest, pinning the Boy in place with his own, larger, mass. Matters arranged to his liking, Padfoot nudged the Boy's nearest hand and breathed in his familiar scent.

For his own part, the Boy simply laid still and stared at the sky. His ragged breathing was slowing to a more normal pace.

"Going to take me back to Dumbledore?"

Padfoot growled, immediately displeased.

"No? Why not?"

The grim whined as he nuzzled and mouthed the Boy's hand, careful to avoid scraping his teeth against delicate pink flesh.

"It's a waste of everyone's time to take me back to the Dursleys. I'm not going to stay there and you can't –"

The Boy's words cut off as Padfoot's rumbling growl escalated into a snarl.

"That's a 'no' then?" The Boy sounded surprised.

Padfoot yipped. He licked that temptingly close hand until the Boy used it to shove his muzzle away.

"I thought Dumbledore would've sent the Or… everyone to look for me? To drag me back to the Dursleys' house?" The Boy's voice turned brittle and sharp. "That's the plan, right? Harry's to live with the muggle family that hates him until he's properly grateful for the wizarding world? Then I'll be all desperate for acceptance and to prove that I should be allowed to stay at Hogwarts."

With a deeply put upon sigh, Padfoot heaved himself off of the Boy. A moment later Sirius was sitting next to his prone godson, Harry.

"Found you."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, staring at the scroll Arthur Weasley had brought him and a complaint from Irma Pince. Around him, the previous headmasters and headmistresses pretended to doze in their portrait frames; except for Phineas Nigellus who was studying Albus and his desk with a keen gaze.

Arthur had liberated the scroll from Malfoy Manor. It contained a list of Harry Potter's oddities.

Irma Pince was writing to complain that Professor Flitwick had taken to eating all of his meals in the library. He had also transfigured one of the study tables in the Restricted Section into a little bed for himself. She ended her missive with a reminder that it was summer and that neither of them should be still be in the castle.

_Harry Potter wasn't supposed to be like this,_ Albus mused as he tapped his finger against the Malfoys' list. _I've looked in on him from time to time over the last decade and __**this**__ shouldn't be possible. Something changed the boy. But when? How? What will be the consequences? What can I do about it?_

Albus' gaze slipped over to the librarian's complaint.

_And what has Filius figured out that I've overlooked? He doesn't have this list – just things that everyone knows from the school year. And yet, whatever he pieced together from such commonly held information was enough to send Filius camping in the library._

The fire in his grate flashed green. A few moments later, Kingsley Shacklebolt's head appeared in his grate. Accompanying the auror's head was the most wretched stench Albus Dumbledore had smelt in thirty years. He could literally feel the hairs in his nostrils being burnt away it.

"Professor Dumbledore," the younger man greeted him as the professor moved to kneel on the cushion before the fireplace. "I've been looking into that matter for you."

"Ah. How goes it?"

"I've tracked him to his last bus stop. There's only one wizarding household in that area."

"Excellent! Well done, my boy!"

Kingsley tilted his head, his dark eyes meeting Albus' own.

"A dark-haired man claiming to be the boy's father found the trail before I did. It was easy to flash my badge and follow his trail."

"A dark-haired man…" Albus frowned. "Do you have any better identification of this other individual?"

"He called himself James Potter." Albus' heart sank. "But they positively identified a frozen picture of Sirius Black as that man."

Albus blinked. "Sirius Black?"

Kingsley nodded. "It doesn't make sense. He's been looking for Harry. But the wizarding household Harry's probably staying in is the House of Black."

Alarm flowered in Albus' heart. "Could they have conspired together?"

Kingsley shook his head. "Black was following the clues, the same as I was. He didn't know that Harry was staying in his ancestral home."

Albus nodded, relaxing again. "Have you tried to make contact?"

Kingsley grimaced. "The doorknocker bit me. And when I tried to force the door open, the house elf leaned out of an upper window and poured… something on me. I've taken three baths and I _still_ stink."

Professor Dumbledore wrinkled his nose. "I was trying not to mention it."

Kingsley choked on a laugh. "Thanks. Your best bet is to ask Black to open the house for us. The boy might've fled by then."

Albus sighed. "I don't believe Harry Potter has anywhere else to go."

Kingsley Shacklebolt blinked. He even looked surprised.

"Are you certain, Professor?" He asked. "The boy I met seemed more prepared. A planner."

Albus Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at the younger man. "You've met Harry Potter? When?"

"When he turned Peter Pettigrew in." Kingsley shook his head, irritation etched in his features. "I'm not sure how, but I'm positive that it's his fault that Sirius Black chose that night to break out of Azkaban. And somehow, Harry Potter got me to deliver the message to the man with my own two hands."

"Would you describe your meeting with young Mr. Potter?"

Kingsley shrugged. "Sure."

_Perhaps it's time to go back to the drawing board. _Albus mused as he listened carefully to what Kingsley related to him. _The boy stole a march on us and it knocked me off balance. But no more. As soon as I unravel his childish plots, I'll get him back on track to fulfilling his purpose. It's my duty._

* * *

Sirius was wearing what appeared to be a pair of black muggle trousers, a wide leather belt, pale blue button up collared shirt, scuffed leather boots, and an oddly shaped leather jacket. It looked a bit like a glove and had the texture of a crumpled paper bag. He was sitting crissed-crossed with his elbows resting on his spread knees, his hands folded together. His knuckles were white from the strength of his grip.

Sirius had the oddest expression. It was equal parts fear and longing and love.

Harry caught his breath against the pain in his heart.

_I can count on one hand, with fingers left over, the number of times someone has looked at me like that. Like they want me around and are afraid that I don't want them. _Despite himself, and his low simmering sense of anger and betrayal, Harry felt a flash of wry amusement as he admitted,_ And most of them were from Neville and Sirius, past and present forms._

They stared at each other, silent and wary and hurting.

_I thought his misery and guilt would make me feel better about being left at the station. But I don't. Now I feel __**bad **__about hurting him back._

"Found you," Sirius said unnecessarily. His voice cracked around the words. "You didn't have to take off like that."

Harry shrugged. "You didn't have to send the Dursleys to pick me up at the platform."

"I didn't send them." Sirius' mouth twisted. "I know you hate them."

"I was _looking_ for you."

The words slipped out before Harry could censor himself and swallow them so that no one would ever find them, not even him.

_Stupid,_ Harry thought. _You didn't admit to things like that when you were actually eleven. Don't start now._

Sirius flinched. "The owl –"

"There was no owl."

"There was supposed to have been an owl." Harry glared. Sirius' shoulders hunched. "No owl. Got it."

"You didn't come." Harry said, hating how hurt and bitter he sounded. "And you _let_ them send the Dursleys for me."

Sirius looked incredibly guilty.

"Professor Dumbledore and Remus said that it was in your best interests." When Harry narrowed his eyes, Sirius hurriedly added, "Something about your mother's blood magics and protection charms. I didn't really listen to that part."

Harry made a small, frustrated noise.

"_There are no blood protections!_ Not anymore. I destroyed them last summer. And they wouldn't have survived the emancipation or the Wizarding Oath not to ever go back to the Dursleys' house ever again."

Harry worked hard to keep his frayed temper from exploding all over Sirius.

_It wasn't his idea. Albus Dumbledore persuaded Sirius and Remus to leave me with the Dursleys. Don't blame only Sirius. Don't punish Sirius._ An image, a memory, of Beatrice the bus conductor's widened eyes and tightened lips and quick, irritable hand gestures flashed through Harry's mind. A lot of Harry's anger bled away. _You've already been enough of a git today, Potter._

Sirius' expression fell. Betrayal and anxiety threaded through his confusion.

"Professor Dumbledore made a mistake?"

Harry almost felt bad for crushing Sirius' trust in the old man. Almost.

_Sirius probably wouldn't have spent most of my fifth year locked away in Grimmauld Place if he hadn't trusted Albus Dumbledore's word that it was __**necessary**__._

"He _lied_ to you," Harry said as gently as possible. "He does that sometimes."

Sirius looked shocked. His mouth fell open and his hands actually went slack.

"But – But it's _Professor Dumbledore_!"

Harry actually smiled.

"He's just an old man. Albus Dumbledore makes mistakes like everyone else. He's just better at hiding them than most people. And he never _means_ to do any harm, even when he _does_."

Outrage flashed across Sirius' mobile face.

"How come you're not mad at _him_?"

Harry flashed Sirius a small, sharp smile. "I'm _furious_ with Albus Dumbledore."

Abruptly, Harry stood up.

"I was going to get dinner at the pub. Then maybe portkey to Neville's place. Would you like to grab supper with me?"

Sirius scrambled to his feet.

"Sure." His expression was almost shy as he added, "I could go with you to Longbottom's. As your dog."

Harry frowned, remembering a similar conversation at Christmas.

_Sirius said that he didn't want to be my dog anymore. He wanted to be my godfather. What's changed?_

This time Harry really took the opportunity to study Sirius Black beyond his muggle trappings and general expressions. Sirius' fingers twitched, his face was haggard, and his hair, although cut short, was a disaster to rival Harry's own hair. And his eyes were happy but they had that bright, brittle quality like when Sirius had first gone to live with Remus.

_My disappearance has been very bad for Sirius,_ Harry realized as the first pangs of true remorse made themselves known. _He's trying to get whatever sort of acknowledgement he can from me. Even if that means being my pet rather than my godfather._

"You're not supposed to be my dog," he said gently. "You're my godfather. Remember?"

Sirius' face lit up with his glee. His smile was so wide Harry felt that he could probably see Sirius' molars.

"C'mon. Let's go get dinner."

* * *

When the monitoring charm on her only son's room began to shriek, Narcissa Malfoy came instantly awake. An instant after that she was out of bed and apparating across the manor to Draco's room.

By the light of an old nightlight, she watched her darling boy was twisting and flailing in his sleep, muttering about the Hogwarts Express and a rat and… Dementors?

_That was an idiotic safety measure._ Narcissa fumed as she gently shook Draco's shoulder. _Someone should pay for that._

"Draco!"

Draco startled awake, his eyes wide and wild. He flailed, his movements frantic and uncoordinated, as his eyes darted about his darkened room as if searching for someone.

"It didn't go that way," he mumbled under his breath. "It didn't go that way!"

_Or some__**thing**__… like a Dementor, maybe?_

The line of Narcissa's mouth hardened. "Lumos."

At her wandless spell, the lights in Draco's room blinked into existence. She shut her eyes at the sudden onslaught of light. When she opened them again, Draco was studying his fingers as if looking for some lost scar or blemish.

His large, wet eyes, chalky skin, and trembling lips pushed Narcissa towards a decision that she had been avoiding.

"Draco?"

Her son startled. When his eyes settled on her, he relaxed. "Mother."

And, just as she had when he had been younger, Narcissa sat on the side of her son'd bed. She smoothed his hair and asked him about his dreams.

Draco's eyes skittered away from her. His lips pursed for a moment.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

Her heart clenched. Unexpectedly, Narcissa remembered that wretched dream she had in Hogwarts' Hospital Wing of Draco, already far away, getting farther and farther away from her as he went somewhere that she could not follow.

Instead of saying anything further, Narcissa smoothed Draco's hair for awhile longer then curled up with him. Her head on his pillow, she looped an arm across his chest.

"Go to sleep, my little dragon. Everything will be better in the morning."

And she sang to him a lullaby that she had not sung since he was a very small boy.

In time, Draco drifted off to sleep. When he was resting peacefully, Narcissa rose from his bed and crept out of his room.

Lucius was leaning against the wall beside Draco's bedroom door.

It was unsurprising that she was not the only one with a monitoring charm on Draco. Lucius may have been banished from her quarters but Draco was still their son.

"How is he?"

"He's pulled his nightlight out of storage. And he seems to be having nightmares about trains and demontors." Narcissa frowned. "And he was worried about his fingers. He was staring at them as if they were missing something."

Lucius frowned. He sighed. "Assigning the Dementors to a school was a stupid decision."

Narcissa tossed her head. "You should have stopped that fool."

"Contrary to popular opinion, Fudge makes some decisions for himself," growled Lucius. "Those are the stupid ones."

Narcissa tossed her head and sniffed. She moved past Lucius, heading toward her own quarters.

After a moment, Lucius moved to walk beside her.

As they walked in silence, Narcissa briefly considered sending Lucius back to his own quarters. Currently, he was not welcome in her spaces.

_But… I've missed him,_ she thought as she slanted a look at her husband through her lashes. He looked almost as tired as she felt. _And he is devoted to us… even more than to Voldemort… and he would've gone to Azkaban for Voldemort._

Just remembering Lucius' denial of Draco to his lord softened the edge of Narcissa's anger just a little bit.

When they reached her quarters, she left the door open behind her. Lucius lingered at the doorway for several seconds then slipped inside after her. He shut the door behind himself.

By then, Narcissa had already turned on her lights and settled at her dressing table.

She could feel his eyes on her as she pulled a piece of her personalized stationary, her favorite quill, and a bottle of lavender ink from a drawer.

"What are you doing?"

"Harry Potter will be coming to Malfoy Manor," she decided as she penned her opening salutations to her young cousin. "Very soon. As soon as possible."

"The Life Debt will settle sooner and –"

"I don't care about the Life Debt right now. Humans can only go so long without sleep. And children need even more of it. Draco must be able to sleep through the night."

"Potter isn't a healer!"

"He is, however, capable of making Draco sleep through the night. That's more than satisfactory."

Lucius sighed. She heard the squeak of her mattress as her husband settled himself on it. Her hand hesitated for a moment, leaving an unsightly blot on her missive.

_This is just the rough draft, _Narcissa decided. _So it doesn't matter._

"_I'd_ like to sleep through a night," Lucius complained. "And it's not like Draco will owe him any less."

Despite herself, the corners of Narcissa's mouth tipped up into a smile.

When she finished her rough draft and her final draft of her letter to Harry, she curled up in bed beside Lucius and ordered the lights to turn out.

Lucius stiffened. As far as she could tell, he had even stopped breathing.

"You may stay tonight," she informed him. "But only because I'm cold. I haven't forgiven you yet."

Lucius relaxed. His arm snaked around Narcissa's waist as he rolled on his side. He curled his body around hers.

He had the good sense not to point out that it was summer and the room was not in the least bit cooler than she wanted it to be.

* * *

Dinner with Sirius had been good. They had both been careful, cautious even, with each other. Harry could admit that disappearing had caused Sirius harm. Sirius kept his pale, intent eyes on Harry the entire time as if terrified that Harry was going to disappear again if he looked away for even a few moments.

The only sticky part of the night was when Sirius tried to follow Harry to Neville's house. Hedwig had been waiting for Harry right outside of the pub where he and Sirius had eaten dinner. She had a letter tied to one leg and a sweets wrapper tied to the other.

Harry had grimaced at the wrapper. _Probably a portkey._

"You aren't my dog," Harry reminded Sirius. "You're my godfather. It isn't appropriate to let you come to Neville's house as my pet."

Sirius looked at Harry with huge, pleading eyes.

"I'll meet you at Grimmauld Place as soon as I can, right."

Sirius shuddered. "Does it have to be there?"

"I can't go to my houses or Remus' place. Where else is there?"

Sirius scowled. He dragged the sole of his boot across the pavement.

"Nowhere," he admitted sulkily.

"You don't have to stay there the entire time," Harry reminded Sirius. "I'm going to be at Neville's for a couple of days."

"But that's where you're going next? Right after Longbottom's, you'll go back to Grimmauld Place?"

"Yeah."

Sirius nodded decisively. "Then I'll stay there."

Harry flinched, visions of the Dursleys' house dancing in his head.

"You really don't have to. I could just send you Hedwig when I got back."

But Sirius shook his head, his expression stubborn. "I'll wait for you."

Harry sighed, knowing insane determination when he saw it. It was an emotion that he himself had indulged in from time to time.

"Just – Just stay away from Kreacher. And your mum's portrait."

Sirius flashed him a quick, grim smile. "Count on it."

"And my grandmum's portrait might like to talk to you."

Sirius brightened. "You found Aunt Elladora, then? She's almost never in that house!"

"She found me."

"That sounds about right."

After a quick, fierce hug and about five more promises to go straight to Grimmauld Place after Neville's, Harry was allowed to send Hedwig back to Neville's house and invoke the portkey.

"Pendletop Cottage!"

_Good old Neville,_ Harry thought fondly as he looked out over a valley, nestled in the lee of a rather large hill. It was too dark to really see anything except that he was rather high up. The darkness hid how close the nearest village was.

Behind him was a squat cottage with a thatched roof. Its walls were made of stone and painted white while its square windows were outlined in dark beams.

Visions of stuffed vultures cluttering up his brain, Harry knocked on the dark wood of its door.

The door immediately swung open to reveal the smiling face of Neville Longbottom.

"Harry! Come in! You – er – don't happen to have that sweets wrapper still?"

Feeling a pang of pity for Neville, Harry silently handed it over. _It must've been from his mum._

Neville flushed but pocketed the wrapper. "Thanks."

Pendletop Cottage's mud room was actually quite cozy. The light from its many lamps lit up the space and made it seem cheerful and homey. But there were dead animals everywhere.

An elephant's foot acted as an umbrella and cane holder while a buck's antlers acted as a coat and hat rack. The floor was carpeted with animal hides – brown bear and lion and hippogriff at a glance – and there was a huge snake poised to strike near the stairs up to the second level of the cottage. Fortunately, it was stuffed.

Harry left his sneakers under the buck's head and followed Neville through a door and into the cottage's living room.

There were more dead animals in there, also in various threatening poses, and the furniture all seemed to be upholstered in leather.

Frankly, it was all a bit alarming.

_Who killed all of these poor creatures anyway?_ Harry wondered as his eyes alighted on Neville's gran. She would have been the picture of grandmotherly tranquility in her dark, sober clothes as she sat in front of a crackling fire and knitted but for the fact that she was perched on a stuffed griffin. _Was it her?_

For the first time Harry actually tried to imagine what sort of woman wandered around with a giant, stuffed vulture on her hat; and where such a woman might decide to procure the vulture in the first place.

Instead of realizing anything profound, Harry ended up remembering a snippet of time in the chaos of the Battle of Hogwarts. It had been a glimpse he had seen through the shattered remains of a window. This very little old lady had fought against Rodolphus Lestrange, trading Dark curse for Dark curse.

_She's a Longbottom by marriage and a Black by blood._

Harry shivered.

"Are you cold, boy?"

Harry startled. "No ma'am. It was just an odd feeling. A muggle would say that someone just walked across my grave."

Mrs. Longbottom looked up from the navy blue jumper that she was knitting. Her pale blue eyes – so like those of nearly every Black that he had ever met – fixed on his face with nearly alarming intensity.

"Perhaps the muggles aren't so ill informed as they appear to be." She sniffed. "Mind those sorts of feelings. Sometimes they're important."

"Yes ma'am."

"Have you shown your friend to his room, Neville?"

"N-not yet, Gran. I thought – I thought you might like to meet him first. Harry this is my grandmother Callidora Longbottom. Gran this is Harry Potter."

Callidora Longbottom held her hand out to Harry. Her expression did not hold out much hope that he would know what to do with it.

All of those months of manners lessons finally paid off at a crucial personal moment in his day-to-day life. Harry knew exactly how she expected to be greeted. He bowed over her hand, grasped it properly, and kissed the back of her hand just as he had learned to do in that manners club.

Callidora Longbottom looked surprised – and pleased.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Longbottom."

"And yours, Mr. Potter. I sincerely hope that you find your stay here to be enjoyable."

"I'm sure that I will," Harry promised as he straightened.

Poor Neville looked pole-axed.

"Neville, please show your friend to his room."

"Y-Yes, Gran."

Neville led Harry through another door which led to a kitchen. A door in the kitchen led to a formal dining room. And a door in the dining room led back to the mud room Harry had originally entered through. This time, Neville led Harry up the stairs.

"The bedrooms are on the second floor and the library is in the attic," Neville said as he led the way. "Where'd you learn to do that, Harry?"

"There's a manners club at Hogwarts. I usually go with the Slytherins but you're welcome to join us."

"If it's a Slytherin thing I'd rather not intrude."

Harry grinned. "It's an every-house-but-Gryffindor thing. I only know about it because Draco, Theodore, and Daphne always drag me to it. You'd be welcome though."

"Well – well, maybe I might. Go, I mean. It certainly impressed Gran."

"It's useful to know what people expect. And I'd like another Gryffindor there. Then I'll be in good company when I admit that I have no idea what they're going on about." Harry's grin widened into an actual smile. "Maybe I'll cheat off of you."

Neville grinned. "Yeah right. You're not that sort."

Harry stumbled, remembering his uses for the Half-Blood Prince's potions book.

_But I am that sort._

At the time, it had been easy to justify. Hermione's scolding had done very little to persuade Harry that he was in the wrong. Somehow, that seemed a more shameful gaff when set against this younger Neville's unwavering belief in him.

"Harry! Are you okay?"

"Fine." Harry forced a smile for the younger boy. "Another of those feelings. Don't worry about it."

Neville frowned but nodded.

_Did the other Neville ever find out about the Prince's – Snape's – potions book?_

Harry tried to remember but try as he might, he simply had no clue.

_It's stupid and useless now, but I hope not._

The room Neville showed Harry to was as brightly lit as the rest of the cottage. The walls were a cheerful shade of blue and the bed looked soft and welcoming. There was also a set of drawers, a desk, a chair, a bedside table, and not a single stuffed animal.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "It looks great."

"You're just happy that there aren't any of Gran's trophies in here."

Harry started. His smile turned rueful. "Was it that obvious?"

"Only a bit."

"I'm lucky that she didn't hex me then."

Neville laughed. "It's okay. I don't really like them either. It's creepy the way that their glass eyes follow you."

Harry shuddered. "I hadn't noticed that yet. Thanks for pointing it out."

Neville's grin was only slightly wicked.

"No problem." His face settled into more serious, anxious lines. "Are you in trouble Harry?"

Harry started. "What? No. Not really. I just needed to leave quickly. There was… a miscommunication where I was staying. Family problems."

_That's true enough. More or less. But if Kreacher or Sirius ever find out that I called them a 'family' they'll skin me alive. Heh. It'll be a form of family bonding then, yeah?_

More to give himself something to do than out of any desire to unpack, Harry took his watch off and transfigured it back into his trunk.

Neville nodded, seemingly accepting that explanation.

"So what do you do over the summer, anyway?"

Neville shuffled his feet, his expression tightening with his nervousness.

"I study in the mornings," Neville admitted shamefully. "I should probably be better at my classes but –"

"Hey, I study in the mornings too," Harry quickly interrupted. "And stop putting yourself down. You're a genius at herbology! And you're really good at DADA and charms."

Neville flushed. "I – um – thanks. Uh –"

To spare Neville, Harry turned and began rooting around in the first compartment of his trunk. The books and scrolls that he would study the next morning were piled on his bedside table one by one as Harry found them. The useless book bag was tossed aside in his quest.

"What do you do in the afternoons?"

If it was even possible, Neville's face flushed an even darker shade of red as he mumbled something unintelligible.

"What?"

Neville cleared his throat. "Herbology. Outside."

Harry paused to smile at Neville.

"Brilliant! I did herbology the other day. It involved a fire whip."

"Uh, we don't have anything nearly that dangerous in our garden," Neville said, sounding wistful. "I don't even know how to make a fire whip."

"It's a… fourth year charm I think," Harry said as he returned to his trunk to dig out a House of Black approved black robe and boots. He laid both out on the desk's chair. Then he started rooting around for black trousers and a shirt. Generally, wizards wore very little under their robes but, as someone muggle-raised, Harry was in no way going without trousers and a shirt. "It's very useful outside of a garden too, especially against inferi. I could teach it to you."

"Inferi?"

Harry's hands paused. "Never mind. They're not the sort of thing we should talk about before bed."

Neville nodded. He began putting Harry's books and scrolls in the backpack only to have the first book slide out of the bottom of the bag.

"I ripped it," Harry said, disgusted. "Give me a moment and I'll mend it up."

Neville frowned as he inspected the bottom of the pack. "A-Are you sure you ripped it?"

Harry went still. "What do you mean?"

"I-It looks like a severing charm was used on it." Neville tilted his hands so that Harry could see where Neville ran his index finger along the tear in the fabric. "See how even it is? Rips are always more jagged and the threads get all messy. This one is neat and even and straight. Definitely cut by something."

Harry stilled. Every bit on him – his hands, his mind, his heart – went still under the weight of his shock and horror. There was only room in him for a single thought.

_Someone __**stole**__ the ring!_


	31. Chapter 31

I don't own the Harry Potter characters, franchise, copyright, or trademarks. This is for fun, not profit.

Happy Holidays everyone!

Thanks for all of the comments and reviews! They're inspirational and they help me to stay on track, plotwise.

Enjoy!

* * *

Neville was impressed.

Harry could _apparate_!

In the moment between Neville's declaration and the crack of Harry's magic, Harry had gone dreadfully white. He even swayed a bit as if he might fall over.

Then his expression hardened, his eyes flared green with magic and fury, and his magic rose around him like a crackling cloud of invisible lightening.

It was only long habit that made Neville grab Harry's sleeve and crowd close. When things went wrong or something scary was happening, it was almost always better to stick close to Harry.

A moment later Neville felt like he was in pitch darkness being sucked through a straw backwards – and why had no one ever mentioned within Neville's hearing that apparating was so horribly uncomfortable? – and for a moment there, after they had reappeared on the doorstep of a scary house in a frightening muggle neighborhood, Neville had been afraid that Harry had left some vital parts of them behind.

Nevillle finished checking himself for missing appendages just in time to hear Harry literally _hiss_ something at the door.

Which neatly brought Neville to his second impressive, yet terrifying, Harry-related revelation: _Harry was a Parselmouth!_

When the heavy, battered front door swung open, Harry strode inside without a second's hesitation.

Neville, however, did hesitate. He looked fearfully up at the filthy, looming structure then at the rubbish strewn, rundown muggle neighborhood around it.

_This place looks __**Dark**__. And Harry had to hiss to get in – I couldn't get out without him!_ But the door was slowly swinging shut and that horrible old fear rose up inside of him. For a moment, he remembered his mother's smile and his father's calloused hand gently ruffling his hair as they left him in his nursery. And he remembered the boy's whispered promises as he left Neville on Gran's doorstep. _What if he goes away and never comes back? What if he isn't the same as now?_

Neville dove inside the horrid house just as the door slammed shut behind him, catching the back of his robes between itself and the doorframe. And no matter how much Neville twisted and yanked, his robes remained firmly caught.

"Harry?" Neville called, his voice cracking in the unrelenting darkness. "Harry!"

_Maybe if I take them off?_ Neville wondered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the mere thought. At Hogwarts, he had to wear the muggleborn uniform under the wizarding one. At home, he just wore a pair of pants under his robes. _What if Harry comes back? He'll think I'm stupid for being caught like this. But if he comes back and sees me in my pants, he'll probably think I'm stupid anyway._

Neville sighed miserably. He leaned back against the door.

_I'm so pathetic. He's going to laugh at me either way._

"Did the boy come with Master Harry?" inquired a cracking voice from somewhere near Neville's waist.

Neville startled violently. And shrieked, long and loud and with every fiber of his being.

Shame and terror burned through him, overlaid by the sounds of his pounding heart, barking, and running footsteps.

"Lumos!"

Light flooded the area, harsh and sudden in its brightness. Neville squeezed his eyes shut against the light and Harry. He was grateful for the sound of Harry's voice but he dreaded Harry's laughter.

"Neville?" Harry sounded utterly bewildered. But there was no laughter. "What are you doing?"

The tightness inside of Neville's stomach and chest slowly loosened.

"He's stuck in the door," said a man's deep voice.

Neville slowly opened his eyes.

Harry was standing in the middle of the hallway, quite close to Neville. Over Harry's shoulder, Neville could see the portrait of the scariest old lady he had ever seen. Ever. She was sucking on her teeth and watching the proceedings with obvious interest. At the foot of the sweeping staircase, dressed in what must have been muggle clothes, was that man that Harry hid in Gryffindor Tower last year. Sirius Black. He was standing behind Harry and staring at Harry's back as if he could not quite believe what he was seeing. Standing in front of Neville, and far too close for comfort, was a house elf. It was a particularly old and wizened and evil-looking house elf that _was_ laughing at Neville. Silently.

Neville felt his cheeks burn with his embarrassment.

"Kreacher? Could you please get Neville free?"

"Yes, Master Harry."

The house elf snapped his boney fingers. An instant later, Neville was free.

Quickly Neville staggered away from the doorway and further into the hallway. The hallway itself was immaculately clean, if a bit worn around the edges. There was an umbrella stand that reminded him of the one at home. It was oddly comforting since every portrait, every beady look from the house elf, and every knickknack he identified only further alarmed him.

_Wherever we are, it's nowhere that we should be. Gran'd definitely disapprove._

"Harry? Why're we here?"

Harry blinked. Mr. Black startled. And the house elf… looked vaguely approving.

Neville shivered.

"Herbology," Harry said at last, his expression hardening again.

And with that Harry turned around and marched through a door off of the main hallway. Neville and Mr. Black trailed after him and into an utterly disgusting front parlor. The smell alone was enough to make Neville's stomach heave alarmingly. He was very grateful that Harry left the lights off in that room as he was trying very hard not to notice what may or may not be curled up in the room's corners. When Harry exited the room through a set of glass-paned double doors, Neville hurried after him.

"Solus Parvus!"

Harry had used the same spell in the forbidden corridor when they were off to get the Philosopher's Stone. It seemed like forever ago to Neville.

A small sun burst into being over the garden.

Neville squinted his eyes and hurried faster. Harry was standing a few meters away from the doorstep in an oddly shaped clearing.

On the doorstep, however, a large hand clamped down on Neville's shoulder.

"You shouldn't go out there," Sirius Black rasped. "Not without a wand that you can use."

"But Harry –" In the garden rare and vicious plants writhed and twisted, alternately attacking Harry and the light or cringing away from them. Without a word from Harry, a whip made from pure fire flailed out of the end of Harry's wand. It snapped out, lashing against a deeply purple tentacle with lovely pale purple flowers and long, wicked thorns that seemed to glisten with some yellow liquid. The vine cringed back. "Oh."

"He'll be fine."

Mr. Black twirled his wand, drawing Neville's attention to it. It was very battered and the style was more in keeping with wands from a hundred or perhaps a hundred and fifty years ago.

_Not his wand._ Remembering the news articles from earlier in the year, Neville flushed at his own stupidity. _But his wand was snapped. It's probably a used, temporary wand._

Mr. Black shot Neville what might have been a bracing look before he added, "But we'll just keep an eye on Harry, anyway."

To Neville, it looked more like Malfoy trying to be kind to someone that he normally might have hexed for the fun of it. He seemed very unsure of how to mold his expression into something comforting and mostly came off looking peckish.

_But then they're probably a lot alike. They're both real Blacks like Gran used to be. And he's the Head of the House of Black so he's probably much worse than Draco or Gran. And they're both from Dark, pure-blooded families._

Neville nodded.

Mr. Black settled himself on the doorstep, his elbows casually resting on his wide-spread knees and his wand held in a relaxed grip. After a moment, Neville plopped down beside him.

_But he's Harry's family so he can't be all bad… Of course, Harry acknowledges Draco as his cousin and I can't see anything good about __**him**__._

It was only then that Neville realized that he was still holding onto the bookbag that had started that whole, strange adventure.

"What happened?" Mr. Black asked without ever looking away from where Harry was furiously battling a writhing knot of the purple vines and some deeply green vines that seemed to be hissing at Harry.

And _Harry_ was _hissing back _at them.

Another shiver shimmied through Neville's body. It was one thing to hear the whispers and rumors around Hogwarts that Harry was Slytherin's Heir. It was something else entirely to see and hear the proof of it.

_He's still just Harry,_ Neville told himself firmly. The thought made the knot of automatic fear in his chest loosen. _It can't make him go Dark. He's not a Dark Wizard like the others __**because **__he's Harry. He'd never do that. He cares about people. Harry's my friend._

Next to him, Sirius Black startled. Mr. Black jerked about to look at Neville with wide eyes.

_Didn't he already know about Harry?_

The idea that not many people got to see Harry use his ability created a warm glow in Neville's chest. It felt like he was part of a very important secret. It made him feel like he was special and trusted.

The part where Mr. Black _of the House of Black_ was obviously appalled that Harry was speaking Parseltongue was a bit frightening though.

"I don't know," Neville confessed, trying to change Mr. Black's attention back to their earlier conversation. "He just… got angry."

Mr. Black cleared his throat. "What were you two doing?"

So Neville told Mr. Black about Harry's coming to Pendletop Cottage and the backpack with the slit bottom and Harry's apparating to the house's doorstep.

Mr. Black seemed startled that Harry could do that too.

Across the garden, Harry was viciously reclaiming meter after meter of garden from the plants as he forced them back into the pitted remnants of their original flowerbeds.

That was Neville's third realization of the night: Harry was not just good at _teaching_ DADA. He was also very good at _practicing_ it – on plants and giant magical snakes and Dark Lords at least. In class, he was quick and competent and careful. Outside of his Hogwarts classroom, in a garden filled with murderous if lovely plants, Harry was all of those things but also vicious and merciless and unrelenting.

Neville shivered.

Mr. Black flicked his wand at Neville, verbally casting a warming charm on him.

Neville smiled weakly. "Thanks."

Mr. Black bobbed his head in acknowledgement, his eyes once again riveted on Harry.

It took ages for Harry to wear himself out. When he finally rejoined Neville and Mr. Black, Harry was sweaty and stumbling but much less tense.

Neville, who had been half asleep, scrambled to his feet clumsily.

Sirius remained where he was seated. He simply tipped his head back to look up at Harry by the fading light of the waning sun-spell.

"Got it sorted out, Harry?"

Harry scowled. Not so much _at_ Mr. Black as himself.

"No." He kicked at a tuft of grass irritably. "I still don't know what happened or how to fix it."

"C-Can we help?" Neville asked, his heart pounding with his nervousness.

It seemed so unlikely but he _had_ helped before. Or at least, he thought that he had. It was difficult to decide if he had been helpful earlier since he was sitting in the scariest house that he had ever seen and watching his friend fight a murderous garden. And Harry always seemed so competent and self-assured and like a little adult person that it was hard to imagine him needing help with anything.

"I don't think so."

"Tell us about it anyway." Sirius Black said as he stood up. "Talking always helps to frame the problem."

Harry hesitated, apparently feeling indecisive. It was one of the few times Neville had ever seen Harry hesitated.

"We should go to the kitchen," Harry said at last. He cast a quick, assessing look over his shoulder. One of the purple vines, which had been stealthily but steadily creeping up behind him, cringed back. Under Harry's hard gaze it quickly slithered back to its designated area, all the while trying to look like it had not been trying to catch Harry unawares. Neville was quite impressed that a vine with a fifteen centimeter circumference and giant thorns that glistened with some unknown, and probably horribly dangerous fluid on them, could contrive to look so harmless. "It's safer."

So they all trooped through the filthy front parlor and down the clean hallway filled with frightening portraits. They were nearly to the doorway at the end of the hallway when a pretty blonde girl in one of the portraits shouted, "Harry James Potter! Sirius Orion Black! Don't you dare leave me out here!"

Harry's entire face lit up.

"Grandmum!"

Harry's purposeful steps immediately diverted to the nearest large, chipped, and in placed gnawed on frame.

_She's just magic and memories. She's not even real._ Neville thought, a lump forming in his throat as he listened to Harry exchange cheerful greetings with an echo of a dead woman. Apparently, Harry had been _living_ in this awful, filthy place with the Dark objects and creepy house elf and scary portraits before he owled Neville for help. Before Neville's eyes, the larger than life Boy-Who-Lived died. In his place was just another kid. One who was smart, funny, brave, loyal, and cunning but made a lot of silly mistakes. Harry could trick even the adults into believing that he was okay when he was really as lonely and scared and angry as anyone else would be. Neville dragged a sleeve across his hot eyes. _He must be terribly lonely to be so happy to see his gran's portrait. Harry needs a real family to look after him!_

Neville considered Mr. Black. The older man had joined Harry at the portrait frame. Harry's gran was scolding him for not having a plan when he went to kill 'young Peter', for staying away so long, and for being too skinny. He looked abashed but very pleased at her vociferous scolding.

_He's lonely too. And he's not really okay after Azkaban. I'm pretty sure that Harry's trying to look after him. I have Gran. And Mum and Dad. Sort of. It's better than what happened to Harry's parents. Who does Harry have? He's always so busy looking after everyone else and being so grown-up that I don't even really think of him just being a kid my age. I bet no one else does either._ Neville frowned. He chewed his lower lip, a nervous habit that his Gran hated. _It's not right. But what can I do?_

He was still thinking about that when Harry spelled the portrait off of the wall and then floated it ahead of them and into the kitchen.

It was the cleanest room that Neville had seen so far. Its upper reaches were dark with lingering shadows but despite that it seemed… comfortable. He might even dare to think of it as homey.

Harry propped the portrait up against a nearby wall and took a seat.

"Kreacher?" he asked the empty air. "Can we have sandwiches? And juice?"

_Crack!_

Neville startled at the loud sound and the sudden presence of the house elf. Mr. Black scowled at it.

The house elf ignored them both. His attention was fixed firmly, and solely, on Harry.

He inclined his head. "Yes, Master Harry."

Harry beamed. "Brilliant!"

The house elf smiled back. It was an alarming, and obviously heartfelt, gesture that seemed to light up that grim, craggly face.

_I want nothing to do with house elves,_ Neville decided. He reached his fourth realization almost immediately thereafter: _Gran might miss the Black house elves. And they might make things easier. But he's the scariest thing in this entire house. I'd never be able to sleep with one in the house… magically tied to me… lying in wait… to get me when I least expect it…_

Neville shuddered convulsively. It felt like someone was stomping on his grave.

Once the house elf's back was turned to Harry so that his expression was hidden from the other boy, but not Mr. Black or Neville, Kreacher shot his actual master a look of such malicious triumph that Neville flinched. He flinched so hard that he literally tumbled out of his chair.

Embarrassed, and terrified of losing sight of that dreadful thing, Neville floundered about as he struggled to free himself from his robes and find his wand.

_I don't have it! I never carry it outside of Hogwarts!_

Above him Mr. Black growled at the house elf, the sound every bit as menacing as a grim's growl.

"Enough." Harry said sharply. "Both of you."

Neville stilled as lean, adult hands reached down to help him get untangled and then to his feet. By then, the house elf was gone.

The sound of objects clinking in the pantry was very reassuring to Neville. At least he knew where the house elf was.

Neville warily slid into his seat again.

"I lost – No. A Dark object was stolen from me." Harry said abruptly. Neville sucked in a sharp breath. There was a tight feeling in his stomach. "It's very old and very powerful and twice cursed. It's… a Slytherin family heirloom that I'd retrieved from one of my properties. I was going to bring it back here and whack it with Gryffindor's sword."

Mr. Black shot Harry a sharp look. Neville startled, remembering that there was something special about the person who found that sword; something very important that he should know and remember.

Neville forgot to worry about the sword when Mr. Black asked, "What good would that do?"

"I got Basilisk venom on it at the end of term. It can pretty much destroy anything, including that ring. I have to find and destroy the ring before it mummifies anyone." Harry shuddered. "It's really dangerous as it is. It doesn't need enough magical energy to help it do… whatever it's supposed to do."

"Do you know what it does?" Mr. Black asked sharply.

Harry slanted a guilty look toward Mr. Black. He squirmed in his seat. "Sort of."

"Harry."

Harry scowled, his expression shifting from guilty and apologetic to angry and mutinous faster than Neville could blink.

"I can't tell you anything important! You don't know Occlumency!"

Neville squirmed, his emotions an uncomfortable mixture of embarrassment and awkwardness and determination.

Mr. Black tossed his head. There was an elegant arrogance to the gesture that Draco Malfoy could only dream of possessing. His hair flopped across his forehead charmingly and he straightened his shoulders.

"Of course I know Occlumency," he said. The shadows of an ancient superiority, and its attached condescension, colored his tone. "Mt technique isn't pretty or subtle and it didn't do me any good in Azkaban but I can protect my mind better than most. I got top marks in the mental arts in auror training."

"You were an auror?" Harry sounded excited. "What about my parents?"

"Of course they were! Your father and I were apprenticed to Mad-Eye Moody." Mr. Black's lips compressed into a thin line. "We're going to have to contact Alastor about your bauble."

"No!" Harry yelped. "I can find it myself!"

"No, you really can't. And if it kills someone before you report it missing, you'll be responsible for the death. There's no good time of year to visit Azkaban."

As Harry and his godfather argued Neville stared at Mr. Black, trying to see past the gaunt features and the glittering mad eyes to what Harry saw in Sirius Black.

To Neville, Sirius Black looked as untrustworthy and uninspiring and crazy as he had five minutes ago.

_He was someone else before he went to Azkaban._ Shame welled up as his mind darted to his parents, forever locked away in St. Mungo's. _I should know better than to judge people by how they are now, after they've been damaged._

Mr. Black, still arguing with Harry, turned to stare back at Neville. His face hot, Neville ducked his head so that his fringe fell between his face and Mr. Black's pale eyes.

A _crack_ of magic startled Neville into looking up. Kreacher had deposited a plate of sandwiches, cups, and a pitcher of pale juice on the table. Condensation beaded the pitcher's curved crystal sides.

"What's this?" Sirius growled, jerking his chin at the juice.

"Apple juice," Kreacher said. His tone was cold. "Master Potter is tired of pumpkin juice."

"Thanks, Kreacher!" Harry hurried to interrupt. "It all looks great!"

The house elf bowed his head. "Will Master Harry be returning to Grimmauld Place?"

"Erm, eventually. But not really soon."

Kreacher nodded. "I shall see to his rooms."

_Crack!_

He disappeared, leaving the three wizards alone in the kitchen again.

While Harry and Sirius argued, the girl's portrait studied Neville with open interest.

"Are you Callidora Augusta Longbottom's grandson?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm Neville Longbottom."

She clapped her hands together, her expression delighted.

"Harry's cousin then!"

She seemed so happy at the idea that Neville felt a bit guilty. He squirmed uncomfortably.

"No, ma'am. My father renounced the family during the last Wizarding War. And my grandmother renounced it after – after the war ended."

Neville grabbed the nearest half of a sandwich and took a huge bite.

_After what happened to my parents._

The girl was frowning. "So you're not a Black at all."

Neville hastily swallowed. "No, ma'am."

Frankly, after spending a year as Draco Malfoy's classmate and meeting Mr. Black and seeing the House of Black, Neville was very grateful not to be officially related to any of them in the slightest fashion.

"And you're not related to Harry's mother in any fashion?"

"No, ma'am. Not to my knowledge, anyway."

"But Harry went to you when there was that dreadful mix up with Kreacher and Sirius."

"Yes, ma'am."

Even though she was just a portrait, her gaze was very piercing as she studied Neville. "I see."

Rather than trying to change the subject, Neville turned his attention to Mr. Black and Harry. He tried very hard to seem as if he was terribly interested in whatever they were shouting at each other.

Eventually, after several sandwiches apiece and several glasses of the surprisingly tasty apple juice, Mr. Black had argued Harry into submission.

Tomorrow, one way or another, they would contact a man called Mad-Eye Moody and ask him to quietly find Harry's ring.

They were at the front door, and Mr. Black was extracting numerous promises from Harry to take the Knight Bus instead of apparating and to come back to visit him in that awful house _soon_ and to be _careful_, when Neville finally marshaled his courage again.

_Harry owled me for help instead of the Malfoys. Which means that he trusts me to actually __**help **__him with his problems._

"We have a second guest room," Neville blurted, rudely interrupting Harry's promises. "Mr. Black could come to stay with us. If he likes."

Even though Harry and Mr. Black had very different eyes, they looked at Neville with the exact same expression for a moment.

Then they were both beaming and thanking Neville and pounding Neville on the back.

Neville beamed, basking in having gotten in right for once.

It was very late at night, or quite early the next morning, so sneaking back into the cottage with Sirius Black in tow was rather easy. Neville knew where and what the wards were and Mr. Black was very good at getting around them.

It was even easier to install Mr. Black in the other spare room, the one furthest from the master bedroom and Gran.

Pleased with himself, Neville soon dropped off into an exhausted sleep.


End file.
